(no subject)
Fourteen today.
Annisele had been called. Annisele had the Sight, she would be crowned as an adult; belong. And Lirael would be forced to watch as the girl - no, woman now - took her place amongst the Sighted Clayr.
Not one thing about me belongs, Lirael reminded herself, driving the pain home with a familiar litany. No mother, no father, no sight. She brushed back her black hair, so unlike that of the other Clayr, and licked her lips.
"Death." She whispered the chill of it into the air, twice; let her thoughts explore the idea. Death. The thought rushed to her on a wave of calm. She found it strange to think that the ending of her life might be the only way to save it. Strange and a little ironic. For Lirael knew she would never have the Sight now and would be forced to watch as more and more of her younger peers graduated the blue tunic of childhood. She saw how they looked at her with terrified eyes; fearful that they too would be fourteen and defective. There was only one way to escape that fate.
Death.
* * * * *
Looking at Aunt Kirrith's retreating back, an icy certainty settled over her. She would not wait to grow into the new blue tunic; that hated present from Kirrith. No longer would she have to stare in vain at the white expanse of Kirrith's own shining garment; be made to feel dirty and unwanted. She would go now while all the other Clayr celebrated the new awakening. They would not find her for a long time, she knew, not until people started to question:
'Where has that child gone? The odd one.'
Her usual silence worked in her favour now, no-one would come looking; not until it was too late.
They would find her broken body at the base of the glacier. Then they would realise how hard it was to be without the Sight. Perhaps Aunt Kirrith would even cry. And everywhere youngsters would inscribe tearfully on steamed up mirrors 'Remember Lirael'.
This fanciful vision brought tears stinging to Lirael's own eyes; finally someone would see. She fetched her outdoor garments, scorning the new tunic in a pile on the floor. She chose to wear the neutral grey garments Clayr working in the kitchen donned. It was relatively easy to sneak out to the Starmount door, with everyone else busy. Her all-purpose key fit in the keyhole, silver lines tracing the edge of a door for her.
Had she the Sight, been able to See what awaited her, perhaps she would not have gone on.
Without hesitation, Lirael stepped through.
Annisele had been called. Annisele had the Sight, she would be crowned as an adult; belong. And Lirael would be forced to watch as the girl - no, woman now - took her place amongst the Sighted Clayr.
Not one thing about me belongs, Lirael reminded herself, driving the pain home with a familiar litany. No mother, no father, no sight. She brushed back her black hair, so unlike that of the other Clayr, and licked her lips.
"Death." She whispered the chill of it into the air, twice; let her thoughts explore the idea. Death. The thought rushed to her on a wave of calm. She found it strange to think that the ending of her life might be the only way to save it. Strange and a little ironic. For Lirael knew she would never have the Sight now and would be forced to watch as more and more of her younger peers graduated the blue tunic of childhood. She saw how they looked at her with terrified eyes; fearful that they too would be fourteen and defective. There was only one way to escape that fate.
Death.
* * * * *
Looking at Aunt Kirrith's retreating back, an icy certainty settled over her. She would not wait to grow into the new blue tunic; that hated present from Kirrith. No longer would she have to stare in vain at the white expanse of Kirrith's own shining garment; be made to feel dirty and unwanted. She would go now while all the other Clayr celebrated the new awakening. They would not find her for a long time, she knew, not until people started to question:
'Where has that child gone? The odd one.'
Her usual silence worked in her favour now, no-one would come looking; not until it was too late.
They would find her broken body at the base of the glacier. Then they would realise how hard it was to be without the Sight. Perhaps Aunt Kirrith would even cry. And everywhere youngsters would inscribe tearfully on steamed up mirrors 'Remember Lirael'.
This fanciful vision brought tears stinging to Lirael's own eyes; finally someone would see. She fetched her outdoor garments, scorning the new tunic in a pile on the floor. She chose to wear the neutral grey garments Clayr working in the kitchen donned. It was relatively easy to sneak out to the Starmount door, with everyone else busy. Her all-purpose key fit in the keyhole, silver lines tracing the edge of a door for her.
Had she the Sight, been able to See what awaited her, perhaps she would not have gone on.
Without hesitation, Lirael stepped through.