superiority of fate

‘Superiority to Fate
Is difficult to gain
Tis not conferred of Any
But possible to earn’

‘superiority to fate’

The Sound of Death stood on the shoreline, her hands tucked behind her back, watching as her sister floated along the otherwise placid surface of Lake Vegas. Her voice sung out to her, low and haunting, the same song their mother would sing when she wished them off to sleep. 

She closed her eyes - her parents were a distant memory from a different time. What once was happiness and hope was replaced with…

The splashing along the shoreline caused her to open them again. She had been singing longer than she thought and hadn’t noticed her sister, soaking wet, begin shambling from the water. The gash on her forehead from where Donnie had bounced her face off the concrete looked bad - worse than it should for someone who still seemed to be standing of their own volition. 

As Jane stopped just in front of the Sound of Death, her sister's hand touched the wound, tentatively at first. If she felt pain, Death could find no indication in her eyes. She furrowed her brow. “Is this really what you would have wanted?”

She waited and watched, looking for a sign. Sometimes she didn’t know whether she led or followed - and her fear was that neither really knew the way. Her hand reached for the belt, the metal cold and wet, glistening from the Vegas lights in the distance. She could remove it, leave it behind, and they could both walk away; they could be free - finally free.

Or so it would seem.

Before her hand could touch the title, the icy palm of Jane caught hold of her wrist. For a long moment, they stared in silence at one another. The cold hand slipped down slowly, the sisters fingers intertwining. 

“Isabelle…” whispered Jane, her voice hollow and distant like a cry from beyond the grave.

Horrified, Isabelle took a step back- eyes wide, voice trembled as she spoke: “Jane?”

Her knees buckled, the soft white cotton of her dress sinking into the mud. She looked up at the hollow, milky eyes of her sister, still staring ahead - empty and emotionless once more.

It wasn’t your time.
That’s what you say. 

The situation should have been different, but your circumstances became the same. 

Stranded at sea.

The small fishing vessel that was supposed to be an exit - a way free - sloshes once more above the surface before disappearing beneath the waves. Ships in these seas often saw this fate - some seeking fortunes and others merely hoping to find their way  - siren calls for some. For others…

You watch the stern of the small vessel that overtook the craft on which you had stowed away. Left alive because you never existed, but executed still all the same. You can see what remains of the ship's crew - corpses, now being cast about by the currents and you? You’re all that remains. 

You saw your chance.
You saw an escape.

But the choices you made in the moment were not the ones you thought, but now, only one decision remained: sink or swim. It’s the choice every survivor makes, but the same can be said for the victims. 

Wrong place - wrong time?
Or where you were destined to be all along?

You can’t help but laugh - you were set to be executed this very day. 

But you saw your chance.
And you made your escape.

You snuck away. 
Wrong place - right time; you can feel your legs begin to grow weak. In the end, we’re left with one choice: sink or swim. When the first fin breaks the surface, you’ll lose that choice to decide. The bodies of the crew bob around you like bouys from the beyond. 

Your clothes continue to pull you down - so why resist? When that first fin breaks the surface…

You let go - you give in.

Wrong place - right time.

You see your chance.
You see your escape.
And you’d rather sink than swim.

As the pressure began to build, you let out your last breath of air before sucking in the sea. Some say drowning is a peaceful way to go - but what would they know? Have they ever felt this pain?

You struggle, but you’re too sunk to swim and slowly you begin to fade away. Lost at sea - a disappearance from a distant land. Nobody would remember - you were once destined to die and almost became free.

But now you’re nothing….

…and no one…

Just another Jane Doe.

‘fate and it’s inevitable fortune’

“They say fate’s fortunes find us all.”

The scene opens up.

The lights of Miami can be seen low in the distance, a glow on the horizon - defiant, in its glory, of the night sky itself and the darkness it would bring. A feeling of freedom - of a future not yet realized - hangs heavy in the air. For many, this city would be a haven - a place of promise and fortune. 

The two sisters stand side-by-side, their sights set on the glow. The New World Championship is still strapped around Jane Doe’s waist. The Sound of Death looks up into the air as she continues.

“But what is fortune - and who are the fortunate?”

Jane rocks gently side-to-side.

“We all say we see fortune as something different, but in the end, it’s always the same. Some physical manifestation - a prize - a treasure we can hoard away. These things we cherish are often the light in our tunnel; they keep us going and make us feel sane. But these treasures we seek?” Her hand lovingly touches the plate of the New World Championship before slipping up to cusp her sisters chin. She smiles back up to the camera, “Trinkets and trash compared to the fortunes fate brings.”

The Sound of Death opens her arms wide, inviting.

“Miss Jakande.”

She tucks them once more behind her, standing upright and poised as she speaks.

“You found yourself in the right place at the right time - or so it would seem. Something you’ve been searching for for so long is suddenly within your reach. This once was not the case - your course was corrected and you were cast away. And Hope? Shattered - both you and your dreams - and yet, still here you are, because for you, fortune finds a way.”

Jane suddenly becomes agitated, almost restless.

“It’s easy to get caught up in the moments, isn’t it? Elation, joy, pain - these things are what we say guide our path, but they merely define our experiences and almost never the destination. When you won your chance and then lost it again, it seemed almost serendipitous. You will say to yourself it’s a place you have chosen to be - a place you earned. If only you opened your eyes, you would see that your journey is not one of a pilot, but merely a passenger because fate? Fate forced you back on that path.”

Her head scanning the horizon, Jane seems to be searching for something only she can see.

“We should be careful of the lights we chase in the dark. Some lead to something special but others? They lead us on our way. Whether we want it or not, the fortune that finds us all is the nothing that we can hold. That fortune, my friend, is as intangible as it is inevitable.” Her sister begins sniffing the air, her milky-white eyes narrowing, “Ask yourself, Miss Jakande: the light you chase, does it glisten and gleam or merely blind you to the truth?”

Jane starts off towards the city, slowly, her sister just a step behind, walking backwards as she speaks into the camera. 

“Fate’s fortune is always fatal.”

She turns, following the path that Jane paves in front of her, the pair’s footprints becoming one in the sand. The camera pans around to the front, now moving backwards as the two continue towards it.

“For some, this is a relief - a gift - a release. A final freedom from a pain that binds them to this world. Others? Fear of something they could never quite fathom - an inescapable truth. How will you then choose to embrace this moment, Miss Jakande? With dignity and grace or groveling for a release - either way your expression is all you have.”

Death shakes her head.

“We both know what you will decide, Miss Jakande. You’ll fight. You’ll flail - because you think you can find a way - just like you found a way to this shot, all on your own - or so you would say. But you will discover like those before you, your efforts will be in vain because the fortune you seek is not the one that sought you out. And your anger - your rage - the things you hoped would hold back fate? Whether it’s through sadness or understanding, the ending will always be the same.”

The camera stops, the New World Champion shambling past. The Sound of Death stops, just in frame, looking past to the path her sister takes - towards the lights, the city, and the battle that lies just beyond.

“Fates fortunes find us all.”

She steps past the frame, following after Jane. The camera turns, catching a glimpse of them as they continue on their way - towards a future - and a fate - that only time would tell. 

The scene fades to black.

“Isabelle?”

The young girl’s green eyes looked up from her bed to the door, contemplating for a second too long as to whether she should answer. Before she could decide, the handle twisted open - there were no locks on the farm - and Jane’s head peeked in. 

“Izzy?”

As their eyes met, Isabelle could see that smile start to slip its way onto her sister’s mouth. She pulled the comforter over her arms, muttering from beneath its safety, “I’m asleep.”

“You aren’t sleeping, but if you were - just know - I’m not a dream,” Jane said, puffing out her cheeks. She did her best to hunch down, contorting her body and face in an amusingly hideous pose. Her voice became gravelly as she whispered, “I’m a nightmare.”

Isabelle squealed, pulling the comforter over her head. Her excitement turns to laughter, followed by a fit of coughing. Concerned, Jane moved rapidly to her bedside, pulling the large cover back. She watched as her sister continued to cough before wrapping her in her arms instinctively, patting her on the back. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered. Her hand felt its way along her forehead, pushing the damp hair back before gathering it into her hand. She plucked a clip from the nightstand, pinning it back. “Maybe we should take this heavy one off?”

As the coughing subsided, her sister shook her head. “Fight fire with fire.”

“You’re an idiot!” Jane laughed, tugging the cover free. Isabelle started to protest but quickly quieted down as she was tucked beneath just the bed sheet. 

“Jane?” she asks, her eyes watching as her sister carefully pressed the sheet around her, “Do you ever think of mom and dad?”

Jane stopped for a brief moment, then continued the process. “Sometimes.  What about you?”

Isabelle didn’t respond, but her silence said it all: she still struggled to accept they were gone. Their memory, particularly their mother, was still fresh in her mind. As Jane finished up, she placed a hand on her sister's shoulder, offering a smile. “Do you want me to read you a story?”

“Is it that awful, morbid poetry you like?”

Aghast, Jane poked at her sister's belly causing the younger girl to wriggle beneath the sheets. 

“Emily Dickinson is not morbid!” she protested. Isabelle smiled, and pushed her head back into the pillow. She could feel her body starting to relax; she always get safe when her sister was near. “What do you want me to read?”

“I’m not sure…” she mumbled. Her hand lazily pointed across the room. 

Jane pushed herself from the bed, moving to the bookshelf that took up the opposite side of the tiny room. She scanned the books, searching for something that might bring her sister some sense of relief, but unfortunately, it was mostly religious text and doctrine. After several minutes of scanning through the same small collection, she could hear a snoring from the bed. 

“Isabelle?” Jane asked. Carefully, she tiptoed over to the bed, repeating her name. When she didn’t respond, Jane gathered her sister's hand into hers. She watched as the girl's eyes fluttered open. “I love you.”

Isabelle’s lips moved slightly, as she attempted to respond, but sleep instead took her away. Jane looked down at her sister, her free hand reaching forward to touch her face as she started to sing - the song their mother once sung when she wished them off to sleep.

‘A pittance at a time
Until to Her surprise
The Soul with strict economy
Subsist till Paradise.’