written by Natasha RaQuean
Every second saunters too slow to tick the clock, not by her senses but only by the norm of a waiting soul. Every lethargic moment drains her heat, her faith, her patience. Shimmers of the object responsible for dawn’s discovery and an unclear glimpse of a still figure are the only ones surviving the dim-lit room.
Cold is being superior now that winter is approaching fast. It was as though The Snow Queen was incensed at her – particularly her. This night, Her Highness shot bullets of zero degrees through her body and suddenly the heat receptors just jammed.
Eyelashes flutter alongside the beating heart — then stops. The image of the pale ceiling vanishes.
They went for supper, each daring another to challenge Her Highness. Not until an hour or so, out in the chilling cold without any coat or pullover, one of them whined.
“This is awfully cold! “
The unwritten defeat of these foolish youngsters was evident even before the forfeit. Soon, regret came to surface as one by one became conscious of what Her Highness had had in store for them.
As they paced home on the pavements all so foreign to them, flooded by the darkness, only the moon’s kiss guided their path. It was by nature’s course, they paired up. Two, four, six, eight, nine...
Her mind flew around, between the amber lights of the side lamps and waltz under the chilling curtains of the wind.
A familiar white-washed spread reappears. Slight splashes of amber hits the edges of the boxed frames of the ceiling. Nothing changed since.
Silence laid with her. Still gripping it, the metallic scent is fresh in mind every time she let herself into it’s reflection – the one liable for dawn’s discovery. The hint of light barely touching the element of earth makes her notice touches of the doors to her quintessence. Slowly weakening, even to pace around.
The three were walking but the world was for only two. It seemed like so through her glass spheres. Drinking the air deep, it occurred to her that people are just too busy to even look up. Even for her dearest pair before her which are much ahead already.
Dark. The sky was forsaken. Nothing but only Sallow Luna stood so faithful. Ridiculous, she thought. Her eyes squint harder.
"You’ll trip walking like that! Walk in front of us since you’re walking alone."
Stunned but that did not stop a feeling too rare to these two dearest ones to swell up
from her point unknown. It was too rapid; somehow like cigarette smoke rushing through the lips, illuminating pale blue angels, and then spreads.
With no hesitations of uttering anything but the heart did, her steps doubled. She cut through them and then slowed back as she was before. Again, she shifted her sight to the sky. It was a different blue every time, she mused. Then, there they were. Shooting beams suddenly showed themselves, complimenting her existence. The longer she stared, more stars became visible. Soon enlightened but Her Highness found it rather sickening and sent her minions and consequently, strikes of the wind thrive off her heat.
Her warmth had bled dry. The naked floorboards had robbed her, giving a treat from Her Highness instead.
Silence went away for awhile as she sighed her way through the night.
Was it a cry she had heard? A subtle weeping. Silence left but spirits of the underworld came to take their shift – or was it just coincidence? A game of the mind for being too desperate for a comrade.
Again, she heard the faint lament. Even with the presence of fear, never did she trip off her feelings to obey fear and be petrified by this cry. The song of the presence was familiar to her ears—the rhythm of her mother.
The restless spirit kept her company but not the lights.
“Check the lightings! “
Bright lights, big white screens, cameras and lights stand everywhere. People were pushing their way through, carrying clipboards and black wires on the floor crawled every inch of the space. It was the day for the so-being-told Family Portrait. She never quite comprehend why mother hired these photographers to capture their family moments, which were already ruptured. She hated it, which now, hope to recreate.
She feels as if dawn fell, broke its leg and went limping the long way around. The night was cold and cruel. Another deceiving scheme of the royal witch. Exhaustion was tied up and sleepiness got hung, but never mind that. They serve no duty now. Even her name thrived a suicide.
“What’s your name, girl?”
Red and blue lights dashed alternately on the plum lady within split seconds, playing her sight. Green elastic bands gripped her head; tied to a mask which allowed oxygen to sprint through. That lured her to devour the air. The thirst was reluctantly strong but still she searched her thoughts, unable to give an answer to the lady. Efforts only led to an irrelevant respond.
Upon uttering it, she suffered massive throbs to the head.
Her head had somehow grown a dagger, automatically stabbing constantly. Her heartbeat got the best of her breath, as that is the only sound heard. Breathing ever so low, like her lungs had decided to shrivel and the air just got too thin, the only evince of her breathing was the heat under her nose. Her Highness had mercy—at least for a moment.
The faces dissolved, the voices evaporated. Silence came walking by—again. Yet, air particles are biting off her flesh, sucking out her body heat and she let them.
Her skeletons are iced and went inconceivably rigid to budge and her muscles took too long to thaw. Coordinating her neck, she managed to turn slightly to the left, probing the window.
A different blue. Dawn’s limping had got better.
“Everything is going to be just fine. Better, in fact.”
Nothing registered in her mind but that was the only piece of information she could retrieve. She had no visions of this, only verbal memories. Then, lights penetrated her eyes. They burned.
White sheets hugged a part of her body. A distinct scent of an uncomfortable hygienic atmosphere spiked her receptors. Formless shadows then descended.
“Doctor! She’s awake!”
Her eyes opened wide. The ceiling runs back into place, back to being tedious. The four walls stand tall but they appear closer together than before, making her claustrophobic.
The wooden boxes looked small. Laid in. Father, mother, brother. It was too small for him —her brother, she thought. She imagined him whining of small spaces but he seemed as if he’s fine with his box then. No whining.
The air blew through her black attire, kissing every part of her body, begging to say goodbye. She took two arduous steps back. The rose she was seizing then weighed a thousand tears heavier. Making its suicide attempt, the almost black-shaded red rose hit the soils of the cemetery grounds. Thunderous sounds of the delicate petals against the envious Mother Earth stomp passed her ear. Never did she wish goodbye, nor did she cry—since.
White. Her thoughts had become more jealous of this game of flashing reminiscences. She doubts dawn’s arrival as devils are raging out of her fortitudes. Ravaging every essence of patience within her.
Her eyes feed on the dimness of the room, hungry for more. Her sight creeps on every edge where the light caresses. The Illuminator makes her see a half open cupboard craving for the sounds of clinging hangers and the warmth of the crisp clothes she would question picking each morning. A dusty chair desiring the taste of the creaking of its aged bark and the hug of heat against its surfaces now only dust carpets.
The rest was taken away in the smoulders.
“You won’t take me! Let me go!”
The words chewed on her heart as those oral screechings repeated without stop through her vocal chords. Elusive images of wrenching and heaving flashed through. A black and blue day that was. Those coldest palms clenched tight on her arms, penetrating her skin. It felt as if they were sycophants of Her Highness disguised as beings in white uniforms. Her limbs were all over the place. The struggle drove her energy of seven horses to roar out of all pores blanketing her, buying her the freedom. Victory—so she thought.
As her adrenaline sprinted to claim its reward, a foreign serum managed to sneak into her system, slaying all horses. Cloaked forces pulled her muscles, prompting the carnage of her energy and alas, she had bowed to Mother Earth. She pierced through morning’s veil and her cheeks kissed the tears of coldness dew to obey gravity’s commands. Soon, the damp and so fragile soils held her body captive, caressing her cold. Then, all there was were swallowed by bottomless black.
Her eyes walk by the pavements of the pale walls. Silence deafens her too much; her thoughts flee into the bottomless tunnels of blindness. Her sight absorbs the facade of a familiar opening. Gleaming light stabs her vision, reincarnating memoirs of dawn’s journey. Eyelids then lean on each other allowing Shadow to spread its dusty wings and rap her eyes.
The virtual shall be crystallized soon, as dawn disembarks and shatter them into grains as it departs.
The wind sang her tales of her grief. It hummed among her hair, running and skipping. Her toes cuddled into the sand, her hand grasp the grains. She felt tinier then them under her. Cold.
Insignificant as they are, Her Highness colonized them all but none suffer what she felt.
She stood gazing upon the purple horizon, reaching the edge of the world. Giggles murmur to her ears while dancing with the zephyr. They ran around showered in the sun, ignorant to the ambience—to her. They laughed with ecstasy, leaving her secluded in her own thoughts.
“Hey! What are you staring at? Come on! Have some fun!”
She stared at her old friend; shutters of her day, still pale white. Her eyes now searched the sun dawn brings limping near. Her heart races, her breath competes. Daggers pierce her head with her hands shivering taking what was hers, now Lucifer’s.
She bled out Lucifer's possession to claim.
The smell and the taste of the pungent metallic blood surround her and with all energy contained in her body, her last word satisfies her crave of the mind. Her chapped lips stumble on its vigour to utter what’s lost.