Impact Theory"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
It's a question Welknan schoolteachers ask their students every year, from the day the children enter school to the day the young adults leave. Answers are carefully catalogued and presented to the students at their graduation ceremony in a beautifully decorated scrapbook made by the teacher of each student, added to each year, growing with the child.
It's arguably a silly tradition, and perhaps even morbid to remind the adults of failed childhood dreams, but it's meant to inspire and the children love it, and it's something to do anyway.
Some kids stick to plain, safe answers- tailor, construction, banker, teacher, doctor. Others get imaginative- artist, musician, architect. Others still are painfully practical- shop assistant, office worker. Once in a while, a few are philosophical- "me" and "good" are common.
Rosalin is invariably of the plain variety, not because she isn't imaginative, practical, or philosophical (she is, at times), but be
Corpse Bride - SnowflakeShe remembers too well.
Whatever that darkness was, it's gone now, and it hurts. What she sees on the other end of the forest, beyond the veil of fog in her eyes, is pure sunrise; glistening ice welcomes it gladly, from the spots where the snow is still untouched.
When the sun is up, its beams feel like daggers in her already aching soul. This light proves it — how death is not the blissful oblivion she used to dream of in her youth, but a nightmare you can't ever wake up from.
There can't be liberating tears to seal it shut; there will be no rays of morning to cut through the curtains, no warm embraces to reassure her that it's over, that reality is much brighter and full of love.
This landscape is too cold to be reborn; no living hand is there to hold her icy fingers now. She already hears them, muffled and distant — the desperate wails of her mother, the dead silence of her father, when they walk through the dry branches and find her body.
If they ever will.
She swallows a mouthful