Ariel, part two
At first she thought she was going mad. Hearing voices in the silence, seeing things where none should be, unable to find the line between real and not. But something greater than fear of insanity drew her back to the riverside, time and again. There, only there, the thrum of the highway gave way to rustling trees and murmuring water. Sunshine wove through green branches to warm the crumbling stone of bench and pavement. The dandruff of humanity - pop bottles and cigarette butts, beer cans and plastic bags - never seemed to find its way into the clear, brown water. Here, she could hear him. Here, she was safe.
She was dreaming of the riverbank when the air grew cold and lifeless, laden with cigarette smoke. She drew back out of the dream and opened her eyes on short, cracked walls and a water stained ceiling. They were awake. The door crashed open and her window was slammed shut. Trapped inside, the air turned a hazy blue - stained with smoke and profanity, chilled with artificial cold. She went out to the kitchen, feeling horribly alone. That was her sister, into her second beer already. That was her sister's boyfriend, into his fifth. She ducked in between them, ignoring the verbal blows and dodging the physical ones, snatching the cornflakes and the last, dented can of Sprite.
She brought them to the living room, where her father thanked her gravely. Awake, his eyes were sad, tired. Beaten. Yet in the lift of his head and the timbre of his voice, there was still a faint air of grave dignity. It was for that dignity that she helped him to the edge of the bathroom, but did not bring him in. It was that dignity that made her say nothing after, when she got the rags and cleaning solution and scrubbed the tiles clean. She opened the window in the bathroom, and the foul air got swept away. "Thank you," she said. The wind ruffled her curls and was gone. She drew back, out of the window, back into life.
She was trying to break the AC again when they caught her. They broke her wrist instead.
~*~
"Once," the wind said sadly, "I could have blown them away with a thunderbolt."
"Really?" She asked dully, staring at the overcast sky. Her wrist was a throbbing ache in its makeshift cast.
"My master once gave me reign over smaller spirits of the earth, the water, the sky." He was quiet. A deeper voice, soft and powerful, echoed from memory: "Come hither, my airy spirit!"
And, in memory, the wind cried out in reply, "That's my noble master! Come, what is thy bidding?"
The voices faded, replaced by the murmuring river. "What happened to him?" she asked softly.
"Twelve years, I served him willingly and well. Then he reclaimed his throne, rejoined his family. His staff was broken, his books drowned, and we spirits were set free. Never to be rejoined."
A wren sang overhead, hidden in the rustling leaves. Something in his voice made her ask. "Do you miss him?"
For a flash, his eyes were the color of the clouds and full of surprise. "Yes."
Author's Note:
I'm trying to ease myself back into writing, as you can probably tell. It's hard, but fun! This piece is coming together slooowly. When it's cleaned up and edited, the entirety of the story will go on Deviant Art. Comments and suggestions are more than welcome. Thanks for reading~
She was dreaming of the riverbank when the air grew cold and lifeless, laden with cigarette smoke. She drew back out of the dream and opened her eyes on short, cracked walls and a water stained ceiling. They were awake. The door crashed open and her window was slammed shut. Trapped inside, the air turned a hazy blue - stained with smoke and profanity, chilled with artificial cold. She went out to the kitchen, feeling horribly alone. That was her sister, into her second beer already. That was her sister's boyfriend, into his fifth. She ducked in between them, ignoring the verbal blows and dodging the physical ones, snatching the cornflakes and the last, dented can of Sprite.
She brought them to the living room, where her father thanked her gravely. Awake, his eyes were sad, tired. Beaten. Yet in the lift of his head and the timbre of his voice, there was still a faint air of grave dignity. It was for that dignity that she helped him to the edge of the bathroom, but did not bring him in. It was that dignity that made her say nothing after, when she got the rags and cleaning solution and scrubbed the tiles clean. She opened the window in the bathroom, and the foul air got swept away. "Thank you," she said. The wind ruffled her curls and was gone. She drew back, out of the window, back into life.
She was trying to break the AC again when they caught her. They broke her wrist instead.
~*~
"Once," the wind said sadly, "I could have blown them away with a thunderbolt."
"Really?" She asked dully, staring at the overcast sky. Her wrist was a throbbing ache in its makeshift cast.
"My master once gave me reign over smaller spirits of the earth, the water, the sky." He was quiet. A deeper voice, soft and powerful, echoed from memory: "Come hither, my airy spirit!"
And, in memory, the wind cried out in reply, "That's my noble master! Come, what is thy bidding?"
The voices faded, replaced by the murmuring river. "What happened to him?" she asked softly.
"Twelve years, I served him willingly and well. Then he reclaimed his throne, rejoined his family. His staff was broken, his books drowned, and we spirits were set free. Never to be rejoined."
A wren sang overhead, hidden in the rustling leaves. Something in his voice made her ask. "Do you miss him?"
For a flash, his eyes were the color of the clouds and full of surprise. "Yes."
Author's Note:
I'm trying to ease myself back into writing, as you can probably tell. It's hard, but fun! This piece is coming together slooowly. When it's cleaned up and edited, the entirety of the story will go on Deviant Art. Comments and suggestions are more than welcome. Thanks for reading~