“Origami on a shelf?” I asked of myself. “With all of my hues, so lovely in blues, why not enjoy me thyself?" What’s this; did it really speak?
Did I think or hear it, I can’t recall; I’m recovering from a very bad fall; I can’t seem to make any sense, of Origami speech spoken then in past tense. The meds that I take to help me control, that voice in my head so strict and so droll, sometimes helps me differ; it’s adding more useless suspense.
So why then Origami, would you please state your plot, do you want something special that you just haven’t got, while you claim the high ground atop its high peak?
It wouldn’t answer, it’s confusing to me; unfettered faithlessness, figuratively.
Is it Ghidorah, that three-headed beast, or Hydreigon arising out of the east? Leviathan’s watching, make no mistake, while Lotan the elder, of our flesh doth partake; he will leave only nothing, no evidence.
“It’s artistic blue foil,” said that voice in my head, then another voice speaking filled me with dread, asking why dying, abandoning trying, is what some people doth seek.
To whom do I answer then, who decides what it asks; that shelf-sitting artwork that’s assigned certain tasks? Who gave it power to question my aims, intentionally introducing what I know are false claims?
The other voice answered, “The truth; it is there, Origami doth lead us everywhere; the people and children, the strong and the weak.”
Mirror-like skin gives reflection and pause, increasingly revealing its scarring and flaws. Origami, what are you hiding; deceptively ignoring natural laws?
I feel it again; oh, how it beckons me still, to do things I’d regret, and against my own will. Relentingly absent however I try; I’m sitting, gazing into the sky. It is not by an order, and it’s not by intention; though Origami demands every viewer’s attention.
Origami turned, peering into my soul; three pairs of eyes, elevating my fears, I searched and searched but could find no disguise. Six sullen, reddening eyes full of fire, could rid me of living and my desire, to remain in the present, and watch me expire.
“But it’s Origami,” the other voice said, “and thou hast no good reason to bring up the dread, thus the feeling doth only exist in thine head.”
Turning back my attention to the foil of blue haze, Origami brought into it the spirit of days; ancient victor of battles, revealing his presence. The blithe substitutions, the weakest defenses, occupations coercing those in need, resulting in something unique.
There’s no indication of merciful conquest; the shiny exterior though beautifully rendered, surprises its prey; not one will survive; all are destroyed in their battleground “test.”
It’s nothing for something. Truth reveals it. Origami’s intention is a rise to ascension. Sooner, not later, they’ll fall. Then all of the enemies still standing will cower in fear, when they know Origami, the dragon draws near.
Origami Dragon © free-reign 2020
Contest Sentence order(numbers represent words):
8, 14, 6, 31, 28, 30, 10, 13, 21, 2, 29, 1, 18, 16, 23, 12, 9, 20, 11, 17, 22, 24, 27, 25, 15, 26, 4, 3, 7, 5, 19
This is my entry to The 31 Sentence Contest Round 14 by @tristancarax. It is a contest based on creating a story with 31 sentences exactly, and each sentence has a set number of words allowed. For more information on joining the challenge see this post:
Thanks for reading!
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