Iron Bells

From the hills I can hear the iron bells; they keep time with my heartbeat. Their deep tones vibrate the iron in my bones and the steel in my teeth. We are collections of metal scraps in this vacant land. We see nothing as the sun flashes in our eyes and go deaf upon that deep tone. We clutch at the sides of our heads on our knees covering our bleeding ears; squeeze our mouths shut in case truth should slip from our lips. We are nothing in the face of slicked-tongued demigods with diamonds for eyes...

What did we see in those eyes? I saw future, burnt to a blackened crisp by my own hands. The towers on fire as I tried to stop her. She ran into that building; screaming, coughing and choking on the black smoke of the flames. I could not stop her; she bit my hand as I tried to hold her back. When she caught fire she looked like a whirling dervish of embers; a black charcoal version of herself.

You saw past, your fist deep in his face. Both his eyes were black as soot and the bruises took on the colour of rotting plums. He spat blood in your face and felt no remorse for his actions. You felt bones snap under your blows and watched his eyes begin to cloud. When he stopped breathing you shut your own eyes tight.

Iron bells toll forever; deep as rasping breaths from an ailing chest cast in concrete. They keep the time of the slow beating of the universe; its pulse underneath all things-- driving our dead dreams and our mouths full of bitter ash. I will spit truth, you will spit danger, they will cough forth pain and suffering and human misery in the face of the coming storm.

This world is changing and we are caught in the cold in between... and have stopped breathing long ago.