Irene 1

Pantomime, phantom shapes and shadows overlaid with drizzled silver lining the edges of the light. Dancing movement caught shining orbs, reflecting gratification as they observed the persisting display with rapture. Then a great gasp as the alligator was swallowed whole and reborn from its fading shimmer, a rabbit escaping certain carnivorization, retreated suddenly to soft translucence as the overhead fixture illuminated the room, drawing a collective sigh of discontent. Tidings of chocolate mousse, however, quickly subdued the disparaging remarks and scampering footfalls hurried inward towards the dining room.

Irene: Prologue

Crying child, like a lamb on the altar. A single bright light, flicker of a flame. A seedling that sprouted forth in the wrong season, soon to retreat beneath the earth. Newborn yet dying.

Doctor says "There's nothing we can do." Sometimes a little spark doesn't catch fire to the tinder. So sitting with the fawn in her arms, shallow breathing, Mother looks down. Such small hands wrapped around her finger, the last umbilical of life hanging on. Father's grip on her shoulder feels like some far away comfort of familiarity to the homesick. He stares into tiny blue eyes, barely open, fading fast. Father starts to speak, "I am so sorry. Little one.."