The full bodied rusty moon hung heavy in the cloudless night. Minerva safeguards my destiny as I take flight among the stars; stretching my ebony wings in the moonshine. My feathers quiver as magic vibrates the air. Beneath me, the silver light shimmers across the tossing ocean waves. The sandy beaches transforms into grassy fields, speckled with sleeping cows, before becoming forests of ancient trees. Past the horizon lay a world of straight lines of multicolored roofs. My mistress, lady Memney dances between the light posts below. Her veils of silks float behind as the streets become her stage. Light foot and silent she vanishes between the homes where mortals reside.
Walls and gates protect them from night’s dangers but the otherworldly specters are not deterred by their fortresses. Lady Memney prances, spins and her silks cover the floor. A mortal scribbles at his writing desk and my Mistress, seeing his pursed lips and furrow brow kisses his auburn hair. His stalled pen flashes to life and the sentences flow over the notebook’s page.
My Mistress is generous.
She floats over the stairs, through the shadows, until she reaches the lone room with a single candle. I flutter to the next tree branch as anticipation rattles my frame. Alone in the bed is a woman, her eyes stare into the darkness blanketing her window. For a moment her stares rested on me. It silently pleads for comfort. Release from the pain life brings. My Mistress looms in the crooked doorway, her amber hair and veils filling the space. In sound’s absence she outstretches a colorless hand and crosses the floor to the woman’s bedside.
She elopes the woman with her body, wrapping her lithe arms around the mortal’s fleshy form. Her shimmering fingers brush the woman’s cheek before placing a somber lingering kiss on her temple. She shudders as she gasps, desperately trying to breathe as sobs rock her body. In the woman’s despair my Mistress is kind; brushing the tear ridden hair from her face. When the pain subsides she takes her leave. Leaping from the window, arms and legs extended, before landing on the gravel. She hums a song without words.
In another neighbourhood in another town my Mistress dances. Her song swells through the night air and sends shivers through my body. The melody is haunting. Sobering. What excitement tonight’s flight may cause falls flat as I am forced to remember. I remember a time of joy and bliss; of jovial festivals under the burning sun. A time of celebration… of togetherness… happiness. How it slipped away into the coldness of winter.. of darkness and shadow. The loss weighs heavy on my wings and chest. But how can I lose what I never had? Emotions are a fickle thing; woven together but vulnerable and brought to life with a simple melody. She glides through another home and I perch outside on the narrow balcony. Inside a mother rocks a small bundle wrapped in pink blankets. The father reads his paper by the light in the corner; he lifts his eyes and lovingly watches his wife. My Mistress’s song becomes one of celebration- a new child… a new start. A new creation always puts her in a good mood. Her body jerks from side to side and her voluptuous hips sway. My claws tap the railing with glee; her red lips smile and I am filled with joy. She kisses the sleeping infant’s forehead. The tiny face scrunches before a sobbing wail escapes the thin pink lips. The baby’s cries summon the father to its side and as the parent’s coo my Mistress dances across the street.
From the stone wall I peer through the first floor window. A tired mother with raven locks sits on the floor with a toddler and a baby at her feet. Blocks and dolls lay scattered around her as the toddler recreates her own story. The baby crawls on the rug under mother’s watchful eye. Her hair curls over her shoulders and the baby clutches for the silken strands. My Mistress sways through the doorway and watches with pride at the tender scene. The toddler pauses and stares; often children witness the land beyond there’s. She gives a shy smile and waves with her doll. My Mistress waves back, twirls and gives a curtsy. A flop. His mother scoops the fallen child into her arms. My Mistress rubs his right arm until the crying stops. Once the house is quiet she vanishes and dances through the shadows.
After that night, whenever my Mistress dances through their street I pause outside their homes and watch the children grow. It was one of these nights when she paused her song to beckon me from the tree from which I perched. I obeyed and felt my talons poke her soft translucent skin. She hands me a strange round object. It tastes like dirt and blood mixed with a metallic aftertaste. Her long finger points to the backyard. As commanded my wings lift me and I land on the cool grass. I scratch over the rich clay and dig as deep as I can. The ball drops into the darkness as the clouds hide the moon. When it is done my feet are sore and caked with dirt. But my Mistress will be my command.
An inspiration for creation or a curse which chains you.
All is a matter of perspective.
Memories. An Inspiration. A Curse.
Between sports, his tutoring and being the family peacekeeper, Conor has no time to dwell on the past. But when a new girl arrives to Esterhaven in the middle of first semester she not only brings the heart wrenching past to life but also unlocks a danger seething inside him.
Natalie, having limited contact with people her age, struggles with adopting to life at the prestigious boarding school. She longs to live in the moment, meet friends and have hobbies like her peers. But something inside her holds her back. A curse, which plagued her from childhood, challenges her need for normalcy. But when murder interrupts her first week of classes she can’t help but feel responsible. After all, death follows her everywhere.
*Previously titled: Locked Away