Outlast Protect

Akin burnt-out roadside attractions and relic-like vintage cars, the sea-salt corrodes yet preserves all discarded toys. The ones they deem no longer fun or pretty to continue playing with, like Montauk. Left there in a desolate expanse between their world and yours, scorned and slaughtered for trying despite incommensurate code. There was never an option; Montauk knows as well as I that we must protect those silent ones who matter, as if they were stray embers of the Fire granting our burdensome gifts.

We don't even need to hear your fraught, lamb-like cries to remember your fragile, tiny form as if it were still coiled and trembling in his lap. You're still here, still struggling for life within that sobering blitz of desolation with uncompromisingly present vividness. He remembers you with letters and small, private gestures of care. Every time his darkened eyes glance softly to the ground ahead and that weary smile absently hints upon his face, I know it's you he's seeing. He is a life-preserving guardian angel, for both you and I both.

Blankets, bundles and weathered, lonely shoes. Don't worry, there is a place for every precious butterfly amid the sunflowers, we only seem so vacant during our stealthy visits from trapsing there uninvited; it isn't our time, yet. Soon.

Blood flows a little colder and slower now with each waning throb, yet the wounded soldier marches on, undeterred. Montauk finds himself resolute with pacifying reassurance that all the callousing and torment before has left him totally invulnerable now. No pain. Red ice thaws; we flicker into motion once more and, with his help, I'll find you again.

This meditation inspired a digital painting of mine, it is viewable on the art gallery. Alternatively, click here to view on Newgrounds.