Bewitched - Emilyn's Story {Chapter 2}

Chapter Two

                Emilyn could only watch in horror as the girl slumped to the floor, unconscious. Several long, frozen seconds passed before anyone moved. Emilyn was the first to break the spell. He leaped from his desk and knelt at the girl’s side, checking for a heartbeat. “Alive,” he managed at last, voice ragged with fear. “But she’s sick. Very sick.”

                Ms. David put a hand to her mouth. “Is it…”

      “I don’t know. Maybe.” The students gaped at him.

                Ms. David turned to her class. “Everyone, back to your desks,” she said crisply. “Turn to page twenty-five in your history textbooks and begin reading the chapter.” Only her shaking hands betrayed her nervousness.

                The students filed back to their seat and opened their books, but no one was reading.

      Ms. David turned back to Emilyn. “She can’t stay here,” she whispered. “You know what will happen. It’s too dangerous.” Emilyn nodded. “But where…?” Ms. David shook her head, starting to back away.

                “I don’t…” She faltered, and Emilyn could see the fear in her pale blue eyes. She grabbed his hand suddenly, squeezing it hard. “Away. Take her away; far away. Don’t let them catch her. Promise me.” Emilyn remembered suddenly. Ms. David had a sister, a pretty girl with hair like pale gold, only thirteen or fourteen. She had become sick two winters ago, and disappeared suddenly one day.

                “They will find her,” breathed Ms. David. “But perhaps…” He knew what she was going to say.

                “The mountains.”

                Ms. David nodded. “Yes, the mountains. Head for the mountains. Stay safe.” She took another step back, then turned and fled, back towards the front of the classroom and her desk.

                “I promise,” Emilyn whispered after her.

                He lifted the girl in his arms. She was so light it scared him; like a fragile baby bird. And so beautiful…

                The minute Emilyn stepped outside the open classroom door, pulling it shut behind him; he realized how stupid he’d been. The wind howled around him, cutting straight through his thin jacket. He glanced down at the girl’s clothes and frowned. A short dark grey skirt and a collared white shirt. Where did she come from, where the winters were so mild they didn’t wear coats?

      “I’m one to talk,” he muttered, glancing down at his patched trousers and windbreaker. With a sigh, Emilyn trudged out into the night.

                By the time he reached the town, his lips were blue and his hands numb. The normally relaxing half-mile walk to and from school had turned into a dangerous trek. Snow had begun to fall; tiny, icy flakes that clung to Emilyn’s skin and clothes. After the first quarter-mile, Emilyn had stopped pretending that the girl’s lips were supposed to be that color, and that her skin was always this pale. He started to run.

                Emilyn stumbled into the town square, barely able to keep on his feet. His thought ran together WherecanIgoit’snotsafeherethey’llkillhersheneedshelpIneedhelpIhavetosaveher. I promised. He whispered the words aloud “I promised.” Then he turned and ran, staggering over broken cobblestones and ducking through dark alleys whenever he could.

                The enormous, dilapidated building loomed out of the darkness so suddenly Emilyn almost ran smack into it. He stared up at the pale stone walls and crumbling bell tower.  A wave of exhaustion washed over him as Emilyn’s legs folded beneath him. He sank to the ground, unable to walk any farther. Vision blurring, Emilyn gazed down at the girl.

              “Sorry,” he mumbled, and then everything went black.

                                                                              Sincerely,
                                                                                       A Writer

A Prayer to Selene

Now, I am not a worshipper of the moon goddess (just wanted to get that out in the open), and I have never met anyone who is, but I was roaming the Internet, searching for inspiration for my next story, when I stumbled upon a website about gypsy magic (which I cannot remember the name of just now, so you're just going to have to take it on faith. :P). It was very interesting, so I read a little, and stumbled upon a prayer to the moon goddess, Selene, that struck my fancy. Here it is:

“The gleaming stars all about the shining moon
Hide their bright faces, when full-orbed and splendid
In the sky she floats, flooding the shadowed earth
With clear silver light.

“Now rose the moon, full and silver,
While round stood the maidens, as at a shrine.
Thus sometimes, the women, tender footed,
Dance in measure round the fair altar,
Crushing the fine bloom of the grass.

“Come hither moon goddess, Selene, come,
And in golden goblets pour richest nectar
All mixed in most ethereal perfection,
Thus to delight us.”

Isn't it beautiful?

                                                                              Sincerely,

                                                                                      A Writer

  

Bewitched - Emilyn's Story {Chapter 1}

Chapter One

                Emilyn hunched over the worn wood desktop, tracing invisible patterns on it with one finger as he tried to ignore his splitting headache. He glanced up from his desk, over at the rows of children, heads bent over their books. Emilyn’s desk was in the very back of the room, by the dusty shelves of unused encyclopedias. He had picked it himself, for that very reason.

                He looked out the window, letting the pale December sunshine warm his face; watching the bare tree limbs toss against the washed-out color of the sky.

                Emilyn reached into his pocket for the hundredth time that morning, holding his breath until his fingers collided with the cool, smooth surface of his most precious possession. He ran his thumb over the one jagged line in the stone’s otherwise flawless surface.

                The wind was picking up, scattering the dead leaves in every direction. The branches on the trees whipped frantically through the air.

                Ms. David lips were moving, but her voice was drowned out by the roaring in Emilyn’s ears as his headache intensified.

              He grimaced as pain shot through his stomach, curling his hands into fists as the ache in his abdomen increased. Voices screamed in agony; harsh, cruel laughter grated against his ears. Voices began to whisper in his head, growing louder and louder as the seconds ticked past. Emilyn looked around the classroom, but no one else seemed to hear the voices. “…Prophecy…..” they hissed, a dry crackle of dead leaves. “….terrible…………..choices...…fa-” The last word was drowned out by a long, blood-curdling scream.

                Then the clamor was suddenly, blessedly silent. Emily realized he was doubled over, clutching his throbbing head in his hands. Blushing, he raised his head. The entire class had turned around in their seats, staring at him. “Uh…”

                Ms. David took a step towards him. “Emilyn, are you-“

                The door to the school crashed open against the wall, and a girl blew into the room. She stumbled and fell, sprawling across the aisle. Her long dark hair was tousled, her legs shockingly slender and white. The curtain of hair almost hid her face, but Emilyn could see her eyes. One was a wild, stormy grey, dark with fear. The other was a bewitching green, startlingly bright and fearless.

                                                                                Sincerely,

                                                                                                                  A Writer

 

Lullaby - A Short Story

All credits for the song go to Billy Joel's wonderful song, "Lullaby".

Lullaby

“Mommy?” the little girl lisps, padding along the icy hallway in bare feet. Shivering, she clutches a ragged teddy bear in both arms, protecting it from the hungry monsters that lurk in the shadows. The moonlight throws everything into stark relief; sharply outlining the branches of the tall trees on the hallway’s wood floor. 

                The little girl shrinks from the shadows; to her they are the long, bent fingers of a witch, reaching out to grab her.

                “Mommy?” she calls again. Her breath puffs out in a wisp of cold air. In the eerie stillness of the night a woman’s stifled sobs are barely audible.

                The little girl runs across the freezing floorboards, cold and smooth as ice, reaching one small, slim hand to push open the door. It swings inward at her soft touch.

                A woman sits in a chair at the kitchen table, head resting on the rough hewn wood. Her hair, silver in the icy moonlight, covers a tear-stained face.

                “Mommy?” the little girl whispers. The woman lifts her head and forces a smile that does not reach her eyes. “Ava, darling,” she calls softly, holding thin, white arm out to her daughter. “You’re so cold. Why aren’t you in bed?”

                “I heard you and daddy fighting. Did he hurt you?”

                “No, sweetheart, I’m fine,” the woman says softly. The little girl lifts her head to look at her mother with smoky grey eyes that seem too old for her thin, pale face. “Then why are you crying?”

                The woman shakes her head, and the hot tears she has been holding back spill down her cheeks and onto her daughters face like rain.

                “Let’s get you back to bed.”

Ava snuggles down among her covers and says softly. “Sing me a song, mommy.”

                “It’s getting late, sweetheart, I don’t think-“

                “Please, mommy?”

                “All right. Just one song.” Ava’s mother gently smoothes the wrinkled blankets. “But you have to promise to go to sleep right after.”

                “Promise.”

The woman’s voice is low, clear and sweet as a nightingale’s. Softly, she sings

“Good night my angel now it's time to sleep
And still so many things I want to say
Remember all the songs you sang for me
When we went sailing on an emerald bay

“And like a boat out on the ocean
I'm rocking you to sleep
The water's dark and deep
Inside this ancient heart
You'll always be a part of me

“Goodnight my angel now it's time to dream
And dream how wonderful your life will be
Someday your child will cry and if you sing this lullaby
Then in your heart there will always be a part of me

“Someday we'll all be gone
But lullabies go on and on
They never die that's how you and I will be.”

By the time the song has ended Ava is nearly asleep. Smiling, her mother brushes the girls soft, dark curls from her forehead. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“‘Night, mommy,” mumbles Ava sleepily. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

                                                         Sincerely,

                                                                    A Writer

I'm back! Didja miss me?

"Immortal amarant, a flower which once

In paradise, fast by the tree of life,

Began to bloom; but soon for man's offence

To heaven removed, where first it grew, there grows,

And flowers aloft, shading the fount of life,

And where the river of bliss through midst of heaven

Rolls o'er elysian flowers her amber stream:

With these that never fade the spirits elect

Bind their resplendent locks."

                                                            -John Milton, Paradise Lost iii. 356


Like the amaranth everlasting, I have returned! I'm so sorry for the delay, I was on my family's annual summer vacation trip to the beach. I took some gorgeous pics from the top of the lighthouse (it was terrifying.) which I will post soon(ish). God, I hate heights. And it's so windy up there. When I leaned my back against the wall It shook! (No it wasn't me shaking!) But I expect you would like a proper description of it, so I digress.


The view was spectacular, that I have to admit. I was so close to the ocean I could smell the sharp, salty air and see the pale foam that crested each silvery blue wave. The water was so blue you couldn't tell where it ended and the sky began. Seagulls dipped their wings as they soared low, sending up sprays of salt water as they hunted for fish. Houses on stilts crouched over the water like fat old ladies with their skirts looped up. A single white boat drifted out on the waves, aimlessly moving this way or that.


On the other side of the lighthouse was lake, with it's tall, sticky tufts of cordgrass, strong enough to rip the skin if you weren't careful. The water was so perfectly still I almost fancied that, late at night, the driads would sit by the water on smooth grey stones as they brushed their hair over white shoulders, watching their reflections in the cool water...


It would have been so beautiful as the sun set, or even after dark, but the lighthouse closed early that day. D:


All in all, I had a very nice time, and enjoyed myself immensely.


                                                                               Sincerely,
                                                                                         A Writer

Sky - a poem

Since I'm feeling lazy today, I'm gonna cop out and give you guys a haiku. :P

Sky

Sometimes I look up

into the vast blues of sky

and wish I could fly

                                              Sincerely,

                                                                                    A Writer