This begins with a poem written by Souldier Girl.
There are so many things to like about it, and it gave me an idea so I wrote a short fanfic underneath the poem. The idea that hit me was about time travel, so my story begins at the end at the end of this poem and works its way back to the beginning.
Here’s SG’s ‘Trickle Into Me’. Followed by my interpretation: Regenesis.
Trickle Into Me.
Spinning bottle caps
On everything you forgot
In such a hurry to leave
Now these boxes sit like dead company
Biting my nails The snail trailing time
You didn’t even tell me! …What I did wrong
My heart a bleeding artery
Hanging like the vacant frames nailed into our drywall
Even though the house is gone
Purple circles from no sleep Are darker than my chestnut eyes
Eventually I stopped asking Besides, your ghost never replies
Spinning ballerina in a box The laborious turn to start again
Lights slowly seeping in
The process of a beautiful corpse Growing back her skin
A thousand warriors stand, fifty to a line, twenty lines deep, banging their swords on their shields in the rhythm of a vibrant heart. Two thousand eyes, centred on a focal point. One mind. None shall pass.
Their Souldier Queen is regenerating through time, dead where she lay after the attack but now coming to life, slowly and surely, as clocks are spinning backward.
The invaders thought they had her; time was proving them wrong. They flayed her and they cut her heart, but the pieces all moved back together, as if willed by something greater than herself. Light is slowly seeping into her; from the Other World to the Outer World.
They sent us a ballerina as a peace offering, but she was an assassin, and as she leapt and twirled high into the air she unleashed a fury of stars as sharp as razors. Her dancing cohorts were Wu Shu masters, steeped in the black arts, and our Inner Circle died where they had sat. Our Queen was flayed with all the rest, so that we might not know who she was and so that our burial of her would be confused and, they thought, impossible, for none but the Queen may be buried as befits a Royal. This is what they do; it’s their custom and way, but they do not know us, and they do not know her.
Their spinning ballerina lays in a box made of curse wood. Its tentacles reach into the soul and never let it depart. Their ballerina will spend eternity with a thousand parts of her soul separated, and knowing it, and never being able to reunite.
Our King went mad, taking a legion with him. He believed that in death he would tower over life, and the legion took his lunacy for prophesy. For a time our Queen mourned, sending her thoughts out into the ether, searching for the man he was, but he had gone. A single mountain cannot echo against itself, and he never answered her back.
Purple circles form under her eyes, as if from lack of sleep. Her eyes, hollowed out in death, begin to shine like chestnuts polished with silk. She is flickering in and out of existence. We will gain our Queen when the reincarnation finishes, and we will lose her when it does. She will live, but in time moved backward. We will not be there to meet her; we will be far from even being thought of.
She is animating, the House of her family gone. That House made great over a millennia. She has travelled back farther than the time of her people. The drywalls of the Keep, older than the Souldier House itself, appear somehow mottled. She senses their emptiness where once there were grand paintings and murals. The candles have guttered, and wax lays dully on the windowsills.
Blood is flowing through the arteries of her heart, and soon she will be complete once more. A long time from home, but not a long way. She bites down on nails regrowing as the pain of memory reenters her. Time is a snail now, here at the end of her regenesis. She is almost complete, and so is the process. Boxes sit where once upon a time in the future the Keep was built. Now it is nothing more than the materials required.
The King had forgotten everything, his soul poisoned as surely as his body. The Queen he looked at with so much love was now the Queen he no longer recognised. The taint had entered his mind. He left quickly, having forgotten his roots and obligations, and the life he had lived. His mind was like spinning bottle tops, never resting, and moving quickly but without purpose.
She was here; she was back. Incarnate. She heard the thunder of a thousand swords on shields from a thousand years in the future. They called to her; the beat of her heart made manifest by them. She looked around and picked up an oblong stone; the first of so very many. It would take her a millennia, but she would rebuild the future, stone by stone, and bloodline by bloodline, until House Souldier was reborn in the future. Perhaps this time the loop of time would be broken. Perhaps this next time would be the last time.