Blazing blue skies shift grey with the storms expected any day. The birds stopped singing, the trees stopped dancing, the earth stopped breathing, not a single soul would speak. There is an ominous silence settling over the cosmos. One that devours all sound with compelling violence.
The grey was getting darker, almost black now. The vivacious need to go back and change what will come is almost devastating. The storm will come, there's not a force in the world that can stop it.
Is this what they call the 'dark hour'?
We must drink in the silence to counteract the fear that threatens to engulf us. The anguish is closing in now, its frail fingers tightening around its heart and slowly, ever so slowly squeezing the life out of the young wraith. Things suddenly became so bleak. It was never supposed to end like this. Not so soon. After all it had barely just begun.
The birds still do not sing but instead, cry in melancholy. The cacophony of wails dance together in a dismal harmony. The stars stare down, relaying a signal of perilous plight. There are few that can hear the pleas of the lost, fewer still are willing to pay the freedom cost. When the universe crackles with vicious joy, there is a soft whisper of pleas of passion on the wind.
There was little sound echoing now. Just the slight hope that maybe this wasn't the end of the beginning, instead a minor halt in the story. There was no reason to cry, no reason for its soul to ache, no reason for the light to seep into the darkness. With nothing left but the slow painful chorus of howls, anticipation replaced the fear.
The gale calmed ever so slightly. Nature seemed to hesitate. The beast sucked in a final breath.
Death is the act of conforming. It is the deed of the end. It is creation. It is destruction and it is the hope of a new, better macrocosm.
Death. Death. Death.
Death is real.
Life is an illusion. A wickedly, beguiling dream before reality strikes.
Death is real.
Death is cruel. Death is inevitable. Death is equitable. Death is mercy.
The world comes to a pause before the ineluctable, no choice but to repeat the cycle in an endless loop. This was not a surprise as there shall always be a sequence. A pattern that will never change.
There is always a tomorrow for every today, always a today for every yesterday, and a yesterday for every today.
There will be a truth to every lie and a lie to each truth.
A form of happiness for each tear of pain and a type of sadness for every effervescent moment.
With a question there will always be an answer and a wrong for every right.
There will always be a peaceful solution to every fight and love for every hate.
A purpose to every accident.
A presence to every absence.
A strength to every weakness.
A demon to every angel.
A life to every death and light to every dark.
The sequence never changes, the balance remains equal and the wraith must play its part. In the symphony of a song, the resilience of life floats along keeping the monsters at bay. It's the best solution for a bad situation because there is no way to kill the monsters without becoming one yourself.
It's ironic really. Tell me, how do you trade a soul for souls without shaking hands with death? People bow down to it as their righteous leader hands them a blade. So who's the monster then? Them? Or you?
A button was pressed allowing the process to return.
Reality melts away.
The birds are singing.
The trees are dancing.
The earth sucks in a breath.
Freedom awaits.
The wind carries them to a forbidden place, far away from reality. Far from the people they once were but no matter what they will always end up home.
YOU ARE READING
Something From Nothing
Teen Fiction"I don't care if you're a girl, a boy or a god damned gold fish. You're mine and that's all that matters to me." --- Logan Mercier, Crowned Prince of the Wolves and Alpha of the Red tooth pack. He's your stereotypical bad boy but with a heart of go...
