Philosopagus Seven 004

1) “You abandoned me,” she says to her father. She must have forgotten. He sees the dark approach.
2) A shapeless voice from the dark is pleased with her perspective. “Yes,” says the dark, coiling around her waist.
3) She feels the pull, familiar. She knows that she is falling, but realizes too late. Her father watches, recognizing, extending his hand.
4) She recoils into the dark. It covers her shoulders, seducing her. She can see clearly in the dark. She can feel.
5) Her father’s hand does not drop, though she is lost. She cannot see it reaching out to her. She feels the tender darkness on her back.
6) The void. And she’s filled with hate, and sorrow, and turns to the dark. Everywhere, but its voice now silent. She is alone.
7) And she wonders, too late, “Or, maybe, did I abandon you?” Her father’s hand eternally reaching.