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Everything in life, it seemed, could all be summed up as a circle.
Not in the literal geometric shape sense, but just the concept that everything living is connected and never ending; everything recurs and everything is passed down generation to generation, branching off into its own sections. Kira often thought about this theory to life, and it became a similar theme in many of her journal entries over the too many years of her existence. Trees sprout from the ground, grow tall and vast, bearing their fruits and leaves, only to drop their seeds and wither away, sprouting new life in their wake; And if one were to die or get uprooted physically before it could spread their life, well then it still lived on throughout the other trees that were planted from the same seed of the same tree it had once fallen off of. The same could be said with flowers, humans, and animals alike. Humans and animals give birth, but even if their close knit line of genes was to be cut off, they all had to start from one singular point in time. Everyone is connected in some way, branched off by the same singular starting point. She wasn’t sure if she believed in the tale of Adam and Eve her Mother and Fathers church used to boast about— the tale of the first man and woman. But she knew, somewhere deep down, it all had to start with one single thing. Yes, everything evolves and adapts, but it still comes from the same point that must have started everything. However, everything must have an ending point if it begins, correct? Everything must end, flowers wither away, humans and animals die, it’s all a natural and essential part of life. It allows the regeneration, the circle, to continuously keep going and to change, growing bigger and more vast. But, there was something she knew of that was interrupting that cycle, something that seemed so unnatural and caused her to think of ways that this circle could be morphed or broke off, creating something entirely new.
Everything must live its respective and natural life cycle, but so far, Kira had not. While those younger then her — her baby brothers and sisters for example— died, Kira still lived on. It wasn’t by some coincidence either, though by an eerie happening she couldn’t began to even explain. Yes, she was positive in some way she could die, probably by rejecting Sabines blood, the new life force that made her circle completely stop, but that wouldn’t stop the fact that this new thing can happen to others, that it has happened to others and that she is fairly certain it could happen again. This is the only thing she knows that has rendered this circle useless in a sense. She just get’s tongue-tied every time she tries to explain to herself how this unusual phenomenon could fit into her circle.
But Kira still noticed she lived in a type of circular cycle, like everyone else in the house did. While it wasn’t the regeneration of life type, it rather was of habitual nature. She still found things she kept constantly doing, a habit of being that will never escape her. One of these things is what she was doing currently, moving softly in the night of the quiet manor, a hushed trek up the many steps of the house onto the top floor, turning and twisting down hallways until she found the slightly chipped wood door that creaked louder then the floor boards had as she tip-toed across them. Inside was nothing in particularly special or nice. If anything, it was more unpleasant than neutral. Chairs, tables, mirrors and paintings in frames lay long forgotten in this furniture grave yard, draped over with white cotton sheets— now yellowed with age— in order to protect it from any type of damage or dust that settled on everything else bare and left behind. She had found this room fairly early on when they moved into this new house, and Kira was sure others did as well but had brushed it as nothing but a dusty and cotton-draped area that would be the perfect setting for those scary stories children whisper to each other in playful fright. Yet, there was a diamond in the rough to this untouched place that made coming here a habitual practice for her.
The window.
Slipping easily between the small spaces between the furniture, she made her way to the back wall where the only window in the large room was placed. Unlatching the lock, she struggled as she always had to wedge it open as the wood was swollen from some previous damage or growth, causing it to squeeze and shut tightly. Kira, however, manage to open after putting her full force into it, as was always the case. The small girl then climbed onto the table, that she had made sure was sturdy enough to support her weight, placed right under the opening and slipped right through the now opened-window. There wasn’t necessarily a balcony to greet her per-say, but she could call it that if she had no other way to describe it. Really, all she climbed onto was a small awning of the roof that just so happened to sit under this particular window. It was like a balcony, but just one with no rails and one without the flattest and levelled of surfaces. Probably wasn’t as secure as a balcony either, but she hadn’t run into any trouble so far. The most unsafe thing of this climbing act was probably that she was doing it in a dress, as she had nothing else but dresses to wear. Nevertheless, Kira always managed.
On this top floor roof, Kira could look out over the entirety of the back yard, although she always found herself gazing up at the sky instead, currently darkened by the veil of night, laced with stars and looked over by the big and gentle glow of the moon. She generally only came up here at nights when she couldn't sleep. That was often. She found that nightmares only ever greeted her, so she would push sleep off, the fear of what she might see trumping the tiredness the heaviness her odd eyes weighed with.
Her nightmares usually consisted of three categories; the past, the present, and the future.
The nightmares that dealt with her past were always memories, and not necessarily something made up by her dreaming mind. Those dealt with Tobias usually, her abusive ex-fiancé to who she always cowered away from, yet loved at the same time in fear. She also dreamt a lot of the ordeal of her being stolen with Sabine. She was curious as to if Lonan dreamt of that too. She also dreamt of her siblings, and although they appeared like joyous memories, they always left her feeling sad and empty when her eyes opened back into the realities of the morning. The ones that had to do with her present were mixed up with memories and imaginative situations. Those always had to deal with Sabine, more specifically in his more temperamental moments of angered outbursts. Then the future dreams happened, and those were the ones that scared her the most. She felt them almost to be like premonitions of the her actual impending future. Of her never ending circle. She just hoped the tragedies and heartbreaks that appeared there wouldn’t really end up occurring.
So instead of sleep, there Kira sat for a good portion of the late night to early morning, un detected and thinking idle thoughts to herself, coming up with stories and questions within her head to later write down in her journals pages. Only an hour or so later, she decided to go do just that, and she climbed off the roof and back into the secure room, where she quietly left only to stealthily make her way back down to her bedroom on the main floor, trying to stay undetected by those possible awake in the early morning, or those still resting in a lulled sleep.
Shutting her own bedroom door so very gently behind her, she scurried her way over to the single desk and chair positioned in the corner of the room, and pulled out her newest journal from the shelf, sat with her hundreds of others. This was another habitual habit of hers. She always wrote in her journal everyday, ether it be a story, or a question, or just a simple log of the events that had happened on that very day. Grabbing her quill, she dipped it into her jet black ink, and began scrawling on the page an early story and question she had thought so hardly about which fit certainly well in her circular theory of regeneration and new life.
- There once was a young and newly wedded man who’s wife was loving and a proper wonder-wench. This young lad was soon asked to go to battle, so his wife decided to sew him a pair of green tights to wear under his rough and uncomfortable plate armour. After the tights were finished, off he went, going on a journey of grande battles filled with despair and victory, while the wife patiently waited for her beloved to come back, hoping he was safe and sound. Soon enough, the man returned, along with his now partially ripped and in need of repair green tights. So, before he went off on his next crusade, his wife sewed up the green tights, but now with red thread. This same act began recurring over the coming years; man coming back victorious, wife patching up his tights with red thread before he left once more. Soon enough, the previously youthful married couple grew old in age, and by the time the now matured and war-torn man came back from his final battle, the tights were completely red, any remnants of the original green gone.
Now begs the question, are the pair of tights still the same pair from the beginning, or are they a new and different pair of tights all together?
Kira swiped the sides of her light and pastel blue dress with her slender hands, hoping to get off any remnants of dust that could have previously clung to it from the old furniture graveyard, before leaving her room and making her way to the kitchen, hoping the breakfast would go well.
As she arrived, the first person she spotted was her dear friend Aeden. He had only lived in the house for a mere two years, which to all of the previous resident wasn’t exactly the longest time, but she so dearly loved his company that she couldn’t imagine going a day without seeing him now. Giving a slight rub to her heavy with sleep deprivation eyes, she said softly, “good morning,” in greeting with a tiny smile to all those in the room. Walking over to stand beside Syx, the essentially resident cook of the home, she questioned curiously, “what can I do to help with breakfast?” Eager to help.