Pain. Blinding pain was all she knew, all she recognized. Blood stained the blankets. Her cries of agony echoed out in the night. Sweat dripped from her chin, and drenched her already soiled garments. The world around her was muddled in chaos, confusion. Voices shot across the hall, shapes danced across her field of vision until she was blinded by hot pain.
Silence. All she knew, all she savored in that moment was silence. A memory brushed past her dark awareness, a fleeting glimpse at things she’d long left behind. A hand caressed her chin. Warm lips met her own. She remembered the pleasure, warm waves of living pleasure one after the other. Two…Three…
The third wave ripped her conscious back to reality, her body reminding her of the searing agony of the situation. She felt her heart beating in her eardrums as she gasped for air. She looked down, wondering at the scene behind her swollen belly. A silver-haired attendant sat at the base of the rush-filled bed shouting orders to the poor servant girls scrambling about the room. Another convulsion gave way to blessed darkness.
She remembered the electrifying thrill of his body against hers. His muscles rippled beneath her hands, while his own ran across her legs, through her hair. His passionate kiss gently greeted her lips, chin, and neck. She felt every bead of sweat, every smooth hair, every soft stroke of skin. Undulating waves of ecstasy stirred her body and soul as she felt his heart wrapping around her own. It was passion. It was love.
Another contraction had her eyes welling in tears. Anguish distorted her vision as another entity tore its way out of her womb. Her breathing sped up as she tried desperately to blow away the suffering; each attempt failed when her body loaded more hurt with every push. Her muscles tensed again and again, knuckles white while her body rid itself of the premature babe dwelling within. Another wave of furious pain…
Stars peeked through gaps in the leaves above them, leaving fractured light on the grass, bushes, and lovers beneath. Linen clothing lay scattered on the ground, and hung from nearby branches, wordless victims of the beautiful delinquency that unraveled at the base of the ancient elm. Sweat broke out on her forehead as the passionate heat intensified. Indulgence superseded the dark knowledge of the empty mask that peered at them not an arms length away. The rolling waves of satisfaction eradicated the gravity of their offense.
She opened her eyes, and looked yearningly towards the opening in the wall. Silver light poured through the window, glinting off the pungent sweat and blood, and lit the way for the determined child to break free of its fleshy prison. She strained her muscles, gratefully anticipating the end of her labor. Finally a new sound met her ears; a cry pierced the night. The wailing protests of the child continued her own as sweet release from the powerful grip of pain, which had tormented her for hours, brought steaming tears of emotion to replace those shed for that torment. Exhaustion left her paralyzed in the bed, her mind dwelling in the past.
They lay in darkness, hidden beneath the boughs of the wind-stained tree. They lingered in blissful solitude, forgetting, in the meantime, the consequences of their passionate dalliance. Tandem souls now bound as one. Only the stars bore witness to that fateful night, and ever was the indignity recorded by their light.
Her silver-haired attendant brought the tiny newborn to her arms, and it took every remaining ounce of strength and will to hold the infant to her shoulder. She looked down the child’s pure semblance, and when she did she was overwhelmed by mirth. Her efforts went to soothing the whimpering babe, and its lonely elegy softened at the melody of the attendant. Tears welled once more as the child drifted off into a mysterious dream world, a serene escape from the cold new reality he now found himself in.
She knew the cold. She felt the cool wind drudge past when he stood up, gathered his things, and leaned over for a last kiss. Glowing violet eyes stared into the recesses of her heart before he stood to vanish into the night. A tear slid down her cheek and brushed past his lips before landing on the child in her arms. The song of a nearby nightingale melted into the melody of the singing attendant. The bright eyes of an owl watched the masked illusion run past before turning to look into the window where the sleeping child emanated warmth in his mother’s arms.
She would never forget the bitterness that followed her burden. Violet eyes haunted her each time she glanced downward at her pregnant girth. She felt the caressing touch of his hands every time a breeze whisked across her skin, and the poisoned touch stabbed at her lonely heart with each waft of air. She’d often wandered amidst the tall trees of the forest, falsely hoping that she may come across her faithless companion some day, hoping to rekindle the now-cold fire that once blazed brightly in her breast.
Her sobs must have roused the newborn, for when she looked down violet eyes stared up at her. Contradicting emotions roiled within as flashing memories of pleasure, grief, and heartbreak stormed her mind’s eye. All she could do, while her strength withered away, was hum along to the cadence of the silver-haired lady’s song. Her energy drained with every breath necessary to carry the melody.
“Stand in the Star Light
Breathe in the Air
Open your heart to the Song of Night
Child so fair…”
The humming stopped when a single phrase caught her fancy. She stared again into the child’s brilliant eyes. “Night Song” she whispered weakly as the spirit left her body. She shuddered into cold slumber while blood continued to seep into the linen blankets. Her lips clung to the last syllable as darkness enveloped perception.
The silver-haired lady sorrowfully reached out to end the empty gaze of her mistress. Stars peered through the window, and bore witness as the keening woman pulled the violet-eyed child from a cruelly silent embrace; ever was that lonely tragedy recorded by their light. His name, Nightsong, will be remembered eternally by the glow of the star-lit sky.
Silence. All she knew, all she savored in that moment was silence. A memory brushed past her dark awareness, a fleeting glimpse at things she’d long left behind. A hand caressed her chin. Warm lips met her own. She remembered the pleasure, warm waves of living pleasure one after the other. Two…Three…
The third wave ripped her conscious back to reality, her body reminding her of the searing agony of the situation. She felt her heart beating in her eardrums as she gasped for air. She looked down, wondering at the scene behind her swollen belly. A silver-haired attendant sat at the base of the rush-filled bed shouting orders to the poor servant girls scrambling about the room. Another convulsion gave way to blessed darkness.
She remembered the electrifying thrill of his body against hers. His muscles rippled beneath her hands, while his own ran across her legs, through her hair. His passionate kiss gently greeted her lips, chin, and neck. She felt every bead of sweat, every smooth hair, every soft stroke of skin. Undulating waves of ecstasy stirred her body and soul as she felt his heart wrapping around her own. It was passion. It was love.
Another contraction had her eyes welling in tears. Anguish distorted her vision as another entity tore its way out of her womb. Her breathing sped up as she tried desperately to blow away the suffering; each attempt failed when her body loaded more hurt with every push. Her muscles tensed again and again, knuckles white while her body rid itself of the premature babe dwelling within. Another wave of furious pain…
Stars peeked through gaps in the leaves above them, leaving fractured light on the grass, bushes, and lovers beneath. Linen clothing lay scattered on the ground, and hung from nearby branches, wordless victims of the beautiful delinquency that unraveled at the base of the ancient elm. Sweat broke out on her forehead as the passionate heat intensified. Indulgence superseded the dark knowledge of the empty mask that peered at them not an arms length away. The rolling waves of satisfaction eradicated the gravity of their offense.
She opened her eyes, and looked yearningly towards the opening in the wall. Silver light poured through the window, glinting off the pungent sweat and blood, and lit the way for the determined child to break free of its fleshy prison. She strained her muscles, gratefully anticipating the end of her labor. Finally a new sound met her ears; a cry pierced the night. The wailing protests of the child continued her own as sweet release from the powerful grip of pain, which had tormented her for hours, brought steaming tears of emotion to replace those shed for that torment. Exhaustion left her paralyzed in the bed, her mind dwelling in the past.
They lay in darkness, hidden beneath the boughs of the wind-stained tree. They lingered in blissful solitude, forgetting, in the meantime, the consequences of their passionate dalliance. Tandem souls now bound as one. Only the stars bore witness to that fateful night, and ever was the indignity recorded by their light.
Her silver-haired attendant brought the tiny newborn to her arms, and it took every remaining ounce of strength and will to hold the infant to her shoulder. She looked down the child’s pure semblance, and when she did she was overwhelmed by mirth. Her efforts went to soothing the whimpering babe, and its lonely elegy softened at the melody of the attendant. Tears welled once more as the child drifted off into a mysterious dream world, a serene escape from the cold new reality he now found himself in.
She knew the cold. She felt the cool wind drudge past when he stood up, gathered his things, and leaned over for a last kiss. Glowing violet eyes stared into the recesses of her heart before he stood to vanish into the night. A tear slid down her cheek and brushed past his lips before landing on the child in her arms. The song of a nearby nightingale melted into the melody of the singing attendant. The bright eyes of an owl watched the masked illusion run past before turning to look into the window where the sleeping child emanated warmth in his mother’s arms.
She would never forget the bitterness that followed her burden. Violet eyes haunted her each time she glanced downward at her pregnant girth. She felt the caressing touch of his hands every time a breeze whisked across her skin, and the poisoned touch stabbed at her lonely heart with each waft of air. She’d often wandered amidst the tall trees of the forest, falsely hoping that she may come across her faithless companion some day, hoping to rekindle the now-cold fire that once blazed brightly in her breast.
Her sobs must have roused the newborn, for when she looked down violet eyes stared up at her. Contradicting emotions roiled within as flashing memories of pleasure, grief, and heartbreak stormed her mind’s eye. All she could do, while her strength withered away, was hum along to the cadence of the silver-haired lady’s song. Her energy drained with every breath necessary to carry the melody.
“Stand in the Star Light
Breathe in the Air
Open your heart to the Song of Night
Child so fair…”
The humming stopped when a single phrase caught her fancy. She stared again into the child’s brilliant eyes. “Night Song” she whispered weakly as the spirit left her body. She shuddered into cold slumber while blood continued to seep into the linen blankets. Her lips clung to the last syllable as darkness enveloped perception.
The silver-haired lady sorrowfully reached out to end the empty gaze of her mistress. Stars peered through the window, and bore witness as the keening woman pulled the violet-eyed child from a cruelly silent embrace; ever was that lonely tragedy recorded by their light. His name, Nightsong, will be remembered eternally by the glow of the star-lit sky.
