We are the wind before the thunderstorm. open. - Printable Version +- HELOVIA || The Way to the Sun (http://helovia.com) +-- Forum: Out of Character (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: Archives (http://helovia.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=11) +--- Thread: We are the wind before the thunderstorm. open. (/showthread.php?tid=10882) |
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We are the wind before the thunderstorm. open. - Meraki - 11-16-2013 My daughter, Everything is so quiet since you left. The wind is ever colder with the turn of seasons; every winter, I count the days until spring and wonder whether this will be the last. My daughter, my love, I have seen things you will never even imagine. I have traveled – you know me for a wanderer – and the wonders I have seen… Oh, my daughter, my love, my darling one, I wish you had not run. I wish you understood, that you opened your eyes to the truth – but you were always a stupid little girl, a liar. There is still time, though. Every summer and every winter I will think of you and wait your return. For you will return, my daughter. You will. Doubt me not. Your loving mother,
Always in wait. *
The sun rose, and I hunted. The forest broke in gold, in green and brown. In every shadow I saw hers; in every nook I saw her eyes peering back at mine; in the hollow of trees, I heard the sound of her laughter. Yet it was never she: it was the scurrying of a squirrel, the cry of a songbird or the laughter of the wind. I would look into a pool and think I saw her in the slim ripple of a fish. I was going quite insane. I was not entirely sure I cared. One night I woke heart in throat and copper in mouth and she was not there. Then the desert broke and became trees, became prairies and shorelines and seas, and the trees closed in and spanned as far as the eyes could see; the wings folded over my back, caught on bramble and leaf and twig. I saw horses from time to time, small and large and dangerous looking; I hadn’t spoken to a single soul in more than a month, perhaps even longer. I hadn’t flown in… I could not even remember the last time I took to the skies. There was magic here, in this place, the magic I was drawn to for one reason or another. I did not know what here was – or whether it was even the right way. I went on anyway, because I had no choice. Time tends to shift when you do not sleep, or rest, or even properly stop. Meraki. “I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. RE: We are the wind before the thunderstorm. open. - Onni - 11-16-2013
RE: We are the wind before the thunderstorm. open. - Meraki - 11-16-2013 “Oh, hi.” Not exactly the most eloquent of answers, but then, it hadn’t been an eloquent greeting, either. We were both distracted, it seemed, she and I; I was lost in my hunt and she… well, everyone had their own personal dramas. “Please – what is this place?” Have you seen a filly, about six months old, dark where am I light, a child without wings? The question is on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it as I’ve swallowed so many thoughts and words in the past month. There is no use in asking; I know the answer will be no, or if yes, it will be some other child, someone else’s daughter. One day I’d found one so like her, my heart skipped, I said her name – No. There is no use. “I’ve been on the move for so long,” I tell her, merely to fill the silence. My feet draw to a halt; I should probably stop, at least for the night. There is no point in hunting only to die at the end of the journey. “I lost track a ways back…” (Sometimes, I wonder if there is any point in hunting at all.) It occurs to me she might be a mirage, a dream conjured by my sleepless brain; and yet when I blink she is still there. I smile, because I have no other choice. Meraki. “I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. RE: We are the wind before the thunderstorm. open. - Onni - 11-16-2013
RE: We are the wind before the thunderstorm. open. - Meraki - 11-16-2013 “Thank you,” I smiled, and smiled, and probably it showed, how tired I was, but I could not – I could not give up, not just yet, no matter how futile this search was. Part of me knew she’d gone, that she hated me and wished not to be found, but the other side, the purely animal side, did not want to let go. How could I? She was my daughter, the only one I was allowed to keep and to love. The one I’d given birth to on my terms. The one I’d loved on the side of a river never to be seen again… Maybe she was there still, one with the river. Maybe she was just gone, another fever dream I would chase to the bitter end. And maybe it was time for me to – not give up, not give in, how could I?, but maybe… maybe I could stop. If only for a breath, stop, learn, regroup – rethink. “I am searching for my daughter,” I told her. “I have been searching for her for weeks, almost a month, I think…” I just wanted it to end. I knew – I felt – him there, here, with me, and yet – I couldn’t without giving her up, and I could not do that, how could I? I was her mother. “I think maybe I should stop for a spell,” I sighed. “Show me the way?” Meraki. “I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. |