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TITLE (EDIT)
Winged Maiden |
DESCRIPTION
Gaining freedom from a cage.
[1,136 words] |
TITLE KEYWORD
Romance |
AUTHOR
Michael Schmitt |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
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[April 2006] |
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL ADDRESS
[email protected] |
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (5)
Concerning The Void (Short Stories) - [1,720 words] [Mind]
English Garden (Short Stories) - [2,208 words] [Fable]
For A Friend (Poetry) - [20 words] [Mind]
Nights Past (Short Stories) Childhood fears. [1,329 words] [Mind]
Streetlight (Essays) - [293 words] [Mind]
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Winged Maiden
Michael Schmitt
Rain mixes and falls.
Puddles on the balcony, overlooking the World.
Puddles too deep to be all rain, it mixes.
The maiden, the bride, the beauty of the World, looking out on the dark from out on the balcony. On the rain, on the lightning that gently licked the sky, leaving its precious light only a second, teasing the Earth, snatching its gift away and returning to its Heavenly home.The rain soaked her to the bones.
Her eyes unfocused, staring through her mind, into her heart, and mixed the rain with her tears. They warmed her soft face, reminding her how cold the rain was. Her white dress long since soaked, pressed hard against her body. She bit her lip softly, seeing out upon the World as it would be, saw herself, and bit harder. More tears, more warmth. Lost inside herself, she did not hear the door open.
Inside, away from the rain and the teasings of the Heavens, now stood the old mentor. Wrinkles on her face laughed at time itself, for they had seen more. She held, in her shaking hands, sheets. Sheets to remake the bed that would hold lovers that night, that would finalize the most holiest of ceremonies. The sheets were uncomfortable.
"Child come away from the edge." said the mentor, her wrinkles dancing in the teasing light of another lightning bolt. Thunder rumbled the fine silver on a large table against one wall, the mirror broken, the makeup thrown on the floor. A bloody knife lay on it. The mentor placed the sheets gently on the large bed in the center of the room, and picked the knife up. She studied it intently, fingering the blood on its edge, caressing the golden hilt, testing the edge against her old skin.The maiden walked dripping into the doorway to the balconly. She stared solemnly at the knife, her eyes still unfocused. She was still in her own heart. "child return to me." snapped the old mentor, snapping her fingers at the maiden as she said it. The maiden swayed alittle, lightning flashed and her eyes focused, and she gasped.
"My lady, I-" she could not find her words, her eyes fixed upon the blade.
"Child I know this is your blood do not lie to me." The maiden wiped away tears, the Mentor reached out with the speed of long gone youth and grabbed the maiden's arm, she gasped in pain as the Mentor did.
The Mentor held the arm into the light, as saw the long lines of blood upon the maiden's arm, already healing.
"Foolish child," she said, throwing the blade into the rain, the blood slipped into the puddles "No blade may harm you to the extent you want, why are you trying?" She held the maiden close to her now, and shook her. Tears fell to the carpeted floor.
"This is not my life." answered she. "You and father, you take my hand, show me where to go, what to say, how to live, who to love. This is not my life."
"Your life was chosen for you child," said the Mentor, calm returning to her voice, she walked back to the bed and began unfolding the sheets. "You were shown how to live, yes, I took your hand, I showed you the World. We showed you how to talk, but we did not speak for you. We showed you who to love, but we did not tell you to love him. We told you you were to be married, but we are not putting the ring on your finger. We showed you how to live, but it is your life."
"Then why do I feel trapped? Why do I feel I have no say, no choice, why am I trapped?! Walls encircle my life, my thoughts, my heart. They keep me in, they grow closer each day, and today, while the Heavens dance over the World, the walls shall crush me, my life, and I shall have no more. My hole, my way out, my escape, is almost gone." She was yelling now, not in anger, thunder backed her, shook the World.
The Mentor spread the first sheet.
"Then escape." Rain danced and skipped on the balcolny, the red puddles growing larger and larger, spilling off into the void beyond, spilling out into the World. It shuddered.
"I don't know where to go."
"You do."
"That was my escape, but even that you said will not work." The Mentor was silent. The maiden walked, slowly but sternly to the edge of the bed, she dripped rainwater and tears onto the bed. She looked her Mentor in the eyes. She looked into the World itself.
"They say you are more than what you seem,"
"What do I seem?"
"An old caring lady, a mother."
"What more could there be?"
"They say you are a witch."
The World looked back sternly.
"What then? Would you have me conjur a spell? What is it you want child?"
"Life, to be free from my cage. To have wings to fly, to be free! To fly away from this place, to escape my past and my problems and be at peace with myself. To be free from the bonds that hold my mind and my heart and my soul, please," she pleaded, tears streamed down her face, "free me!"
"I can not."
The bride collapsed onto the bed, defeated. She sobbed, in dry heaves now, no more tears remained. A body can only weap so much for a lost heart. Thunder gently rolled across the World, as the Mentor threw a pillow into its covering. The maiden slowly rose again, and walked over to her broken mirror. Her shattered relection blinked back at her. She fingered her wet hair, it fell in heaps around her face. Her dress still damp, outlining her figure. She sniffed one last time, sniffed away the pain and the tears and the sadness, and the hope. She turned to her Mentor.
"If you can not help me than I am lost. Blades may do me no harm, but the ground shall recieve my sacrifice. If you shall not give me wings than I shall try but once to gain them for myself." And she turned away from her bedchamber, away from the bed, away from the Mentor, and walked quickly to the balcony. Lighning flashed, and the Mentor saw the maiden on the railing, staring into the void.
She can not do it, thought the Mentor, she will not. Another lick of lightning, and no maiden was there. The void had taken her. The Mentor sighed, put down her sheets, and walked slowly out of the room. Closing the door behind her.
The ground did not recieve the maiden, nor did the Mentor give her wings. Out of her cage she flew, into the World.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2006 Michael Schmitt |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
April 2006 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
1808
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