Can Survive
(The Final) Zoditraxx Crossover Part 2: Lunanticks #12 | Read Time: 4 min
The creased bow of her paper boat rippled and distorted the pale moon's reflection over the water. Full and bright, it contrasted the broken emptiness inside. Scribbles from her diary decorated its hull. She palmed another vessel, and gently placed it atop the glassy surface in the wake of the others. With a deep breath, and some final affirming words, she set its course amongst the armada ahead.
Maggie crafted each ship from cathartic journal pages and unsent letters. Built upon betrayals, hurts, slights, and grudges, she released them to the water with a wick lashed to the top of their masts. Sulphur sparkled as she struck a match, and stepped in after the boats to light the little lanterns. With a flame dotted on each papercraft she watched them sail. Her bare feet numbed in the inches of lake as the small fires marched to the scripts. Sprinkled sage tucked in the folds of paper perfumed the air. Heavy words ignited, smoking to ash, twisting skyward, dancing towards the moon, their soot collapsing into the water cleansed. Rinsed in wind, washed in flame, buried in water, dusted to earth again. Purified by the elements.
Different stories that bloated the last month disappeared one by one. Maggie sat on the cold ancient pebbles that built the beach, watching as they burned. With each Moon, the cycle repeated. Some months more ships, more wounds, others less. The exercise would embarrass her if she didn't feel so much better after each ritual, and the sight wasn't so stunning. Released, unburdened, though never as complete as she'd like.
Bullet pointed in a long mental list, Maggie used to keep meticulous track of her hurts. Learning to let go of that process, and its perceived protection was an ongoing battle. Fighting her tendencies to clasp and hold wounds as if they were appreciating currencies that grew in value over time. They'd been proofs; of their wrongs, her strength, and righteousness. Until the weight of the pages overwhelmed her, and she became imprisoned by her process.
It had always been about words. Pain born from broken promises, lies and cruelties. Freedom found in a sentence scrawled in chalk across a random sandwich board. Your heart is broken, but your spirit is not. The sign's nags churned her imagination, elucidated a redemptive path that took her to torn pages, and called the winds that brought her releasing ritual.
Beyond her private ceremonies, and reverence for nature, Maggie had no real spiritual practices or thoughts. Rare did she think of the expanses, of deities, pilgrimages, or omens. Though she always made time for the Moon. No matter where it found her, its light a secret space. She told no one of her practices, it wasn't for them. Not for their eyes, not for their thoughts. The release was for her, and her alone. From there, there was nothing more to be done but move on. Boundaries set. Perpetrators cut off. Careers changed, homes moved, appropriate counselling sought and self care taken on until there was nothing else in her power to change, except to change herself, and she changed it with flame.
A deep breath gave her the courage to continue forth. Safe in solitude Maggie stripped her clothes, placed the bundle upon a towel above the water line and stepped into the cold, following the lanterns on the lake. She moved down the shore deeper and deeper. The water raised to her hips, to her navel, to her chest, to her throat. She was slow, intentional, embracing every freezing inch as her brow dropped beneath the surface. In the icy abyss she levitated. Cradled by the element, Maggie's limbs drifted, and hair blossomed like a crown, her shadowy form silhouetted by the spotlighting Moon. As her bathing wounds seeped to the cold Maggie opened her eyes. Eyelashes weighted by the water, she struggled to watch the tiny bubbles climb starward while her vision focused. The last of the burning orbs above extinguished as her lungs began to lash. Holding it in couldn't help her further. Stale air turned toxic with every second. Out it went, released in bulbous balloons that rocketed skyward. The burning flames of anger doused, her body begged for reprieve as she paddled her little feet back to the surface.
Nothing remained but trails of smoke, and a creeping fog as she broke the threshold between the water and heavens. Maggie rolled to her back and floated until she could stand the biting temperature no longer. She fought the panic that came with the pooled freezing rancour, and focused on the immense sight in the sky above with gratitude. Her swim to shore was slow. Maggie's head moved like the stern of the transformative paper ships she'd sent away. They were gone, though she knew all too well that the memories of the pages would return again as they always did. The break welcomed healing.
Pebbles and sand announced the shallow bank, and Maggie rose cleansed from the water. Wasting no time she wrapped herself in her towel, pulled over a hoodie, and grabbed a blanket. She fished matches, a stick of palo santo, and selected a peaceful playlist of folky songwriters to soothe while her temperature regulated. As the opening chords blossomed from her phone speaker, calm began to surface. The words and the burdens she'd rinsed away weren't forgotten, but dealt with for the time being. She'd stay for another hour or two, until whispers of sleep called her home, ready to rise again and face the morrow, rested, recharged.
Can’t believe it’s over, to full volumes of the Zoditraxx, don’t forget to check out all the music, the first album: Sol Bathing you find below, you can find all 24 songs, the Sol, the Shadow, spin the dial, and discover them all!
Thanks for reading!
-Mr. Write
PS: Be sure to check out Exaggerated Shadow’s new release for Can Survive on all your favourite streaming platforms! As well as the first collection of the Zoditraxx, Sol Bathing!