H Ø M E

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9. M I R A

      The dark stratosphere melts into an inky horizon, that is blue and luminous green

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      The dark stratosphere melts into an inky horizon, that is blue and luminous green. The colours blend together to create a paranormal glow. Pulsing among the night are white globes of heat. The stars tease those below them with gleaming winks. Dominating the night is the full moon, it's skin has been tainted by a dull shade of crimson. It rests close to the waves of the water that brush over my feet.

      I am perched on a bough, my legs dangle over the branch. The tree's wrangled trunk grows up from the shallow water. Bearing no leaves, it's branches taper out with a sadness. Dozens more are scattered precariously throughout the beach. Some so far out of the shore, that the waves crash over the tips. They have sunk below.

      I point to the drowning trees. "I used to be like them," I say to Thorn, who rests on my shoulder. Her little hands are folded behind her head, as she lounges carelessly. Trusting me enough, to know that I won't let her fall.

      The theory of my blood bringing her to life was proven true. I went to search for the rose, and I found the flower to be gone. Only a lonely severed stem remained. Needing to ingest the information, without losing my mind, I walked to the beach. Of course, Thorn followed after me. It would be a lie if I said I didn't appreciate her company. Even though she couldn't talk to me, it was simply nice to not be alone.

"I was trapped. At first, I thought it was a figment of my imagination. Maybe I was stuck in my head, in the same nightmare." My voice is soft as my eyes move over the craters of the moon.

"But then I got these," I bring both of my arms up. Jagged scars curve around my wrists, matching the ones woven around my ankles.

      Thorn's wings flutter as she flies into the palm of my hand. She sits down, then hesitantly, her fingers run over the rough terrain of the pinched flesh, it is a few shades lighter then my normal skin. Her red eyes are wide as she gazes up at me.

"As much as they hurt, they helped me understand I was alive, I existed." For some reason I am unable to hold Thorn's gaze, the vulnerability of the moment shakes me. I focus on the gentle sound of lapping waves. "I was hostage to the Void, a cruel prison. I thought she was my Purgatory, but I didn't know what sins I was being punished for. I couldn't remember anything before her. Even now, I can't remember anything from my past."

      My eyes close as I think of the abyss that held me. The light that circled my body, the still grey water, the chains, I remember the chains all too well. With a rough exhale, I open my eyes. My fear of large bodies of water nearly swallows me whole. I tamper down the urge to run to the sand behind me. I won't let the Void ruin this for me, I'll have to conquer the demons she scarred me with.

"Years, now I know it was years that she took from me." The dress I had been buried in was for a child.

      Thorn's wings droop as sorrow etches over her face. I don't know how or why she feels so tethered to my pain, maybe it's my blood that runs through her veins. Perhaps she's anchored to me, perhaps it's her loyalty that's making her behave this way.

      Her lips tremble right before a squeaky sob wracks her body. She falls back into my hand as she cries with sorrow.

      If I knew she was going to be upset I wouldn't have told her. I sit up and bring her closer to my face.

"Hey, hey it's alright, I was just getting to the best part." 

      She's still crying lost in turmoil.

"I heard the sound of music," I murmur to her, "and it was beautiful Thorn, it helped me. It took all the bad away." Her sobs quiet, and she wipes at her eyes. "It saved me and led me here. I found the Church, saw the island, and then I met you." I smile at her, as she calms.

      I realise then, that I don't know how I've ended up here. I don't know where my family is, I don't know why I can't remember anything. It feels like someone has stolen my life from me, and wiped away my memories. The burden of not knowing feels heavy on my shoulders.

      It is easy to focus on all the unfortunate events, on everything I don't know. I sigh, and take a moment to look at the view, I never imagined I'd see a sight like this, let alone have a friend like Thorn. Even in the bad, there is good, and I will build on that.

      The water stretches endlessly, and in that moment I feel infinitely small and insignificant. Like a speck amongst stars that merges to form a galaxy. I have already learned that whether or not I exist, this world will go on without me. The Void began my experience of life mercilessly, depriving me of everything. But it taught me, that while the world can go on without me, I choose not to go without it. Whatever time I've been allotted on this journey, I want it to feel it. I want to feel every emotion, each like a string that bares my soul and leaves me thirsting for more.

      More then anything, I seek knowledge. I want to know is there more life out there? I can't be the only one, I'd be ignorant to think I was the only one. The moon doesn't shine for my eyes alone, and the sun doesn't rise for my skin alone. There must be others like me, people, creatures, something.

      I search for answers in the water which looks to have its own orbit of stars in the liquid, but I know it's an illusion. I daydream about people, about more life.

      I imagine a world without pain, society living together in harmony. I long for that.

      Thorn's wings skim against one another as she excitedly points to one of the brightest stars in the sky. I catch the hopeful look in her eyes.

"You know," I say to her, "we're a lot alike," she flies to my shoulder again. "At least, we have this place to call home."

      I rest my back against the tree trunk, a gentle hum leaves my lips, the same melody that awoke me. I recall the wings that departed as soon as I got to the Church, I have still have the feather.

      Miles away from us, a cloud of black disrupts the beauty of the horizon. Sizzling bolts of purple lightning strike in spasms of three, it is dangerously beautiful. I memorise the illuminating patterns.

"There's a storm's approaching."

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