From the grand piano, discordant notes fell in unsteady droplets, wavering as they descended, shattering into infinite flecks and shards upon crashing into the hardwood floor. Her hands danced fleetingly, ivory against ivory, contrasted with ebony. Out the open window into the rain fled the dissonance, the muffled cries and broken, cracking sobs. She kept her eyes closed, her lavender lids unmoving, unblinking.
Between the conception
And the creation
There was no sound besides the fractured music, and the hoarse, repetitive sniffles, and the echoing rain.
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Blood slipped onto the ivory from the places where the skin of her weathered hands had worn through. She did not feel it; she could not even sense the pain. All the space for thought, for feeling, for the mutest of sensations, was being suctioned away by memory.
Life is very long
Pale, wrinkled eyelids still softly closed, she declined to fight the visions that filtered in like dazzled sunlight through the top of a cloud. It was dark, but she could see her, feel her even, touching her through the crevices in the air. A waft of faint scent, a gentle brush of raven hair, so tender it was hardly real. A whisper through the dark, encompassing her sight and mind and burning through her ears, "I knew you'd come."
Without permission, there came the escape of a broken sob, and her head dropped to the piano lid, though her fingers still moved unwillingly.
Between the desire
And the spasm
"Aria," she whispered pitifully, the scrounging word a failing whimper as strands of dark blonde hair filtered over the grief-stained keys.
"My Spencer. I knew you'd come for me." A knife, glimmering on the edge of the ancient lid, handle grimy and antique with eons of being observed. Her closed eyes were drawn to it, even in the shadows. A flash of hope, lipstick stained, to be replaced by waves of lethargy. She had promised her, endless eyes washed over with blatant honesty. She had promised her.
Between the potency
And the existence
"Aria," she whimpered again, though the name now was half-lost, lingering trippingly on the infinite edges of her tongue, dancing to the end and back again. Limitless. Empty. All she felt was the absence. Dark was the absence of the light, they told her; dark was the absence of the light. Her light. Tiny, energetic light filled with sunspots of wacky styles and lace-up leather boots and skull-shaped earrings.
It was not dark, she decided; it was only that the light had gone, and now there was nothing left but the abyss to fill its place.
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
She was breaking, numbing; her chafed fingertips still tap-danced across the keys in an anguished ballet, an intolerably vacant dance.
For Thine is the Kingdom
Her red-rimmed eyes blinked slowly open, shades of coffee and hazel and faded emerald green. Across the room, limbs arranged easily along the bends of a forgotten armchair, the eyes fancied they caught a glimpse of the minute figure. The long legs unfolded, crossed the room; she knelt down before her broken lover. In contrast to the paleness of the washed-out creature, she was bright and radiating life.
Disregarding the fact that she was dead, of course.
For Thine is
"Spencer." Her voice echoed, transparent, lingering for a moment in her ears before it lifted away back into the absence from whence it came. "My love. Let it go for me." Another scattered, uncollected sob, almost a sniffle now; less energy. A fierce shaking of the head, pain doubling where her temple pressed into the wood. Aria's sad smile, the back of her hand tenderly brushing the hollow, wasted cheek.
"I miss you so."
Life is
"Aria, I can't." A desperate plea, hopeless tone. The hand dropped away, and her lover stood.
For Thine is the
"I can't!" Her head shooting up now, only to fall back down, too weary. One last, sad look, and a longing smile.
"Yes you can, Spencer. For me." She had faded slowly – she was gone.
This is the way the world ends
"Aria!" The strangled cry barely left her throat; it was stopped by an unseen force. Her eyes slid closed once more. "Aria." Barely a murmur. Her hands continued to move.
This is the way the world ends
The rain continued, endless in its pattering onto every surface, unavoidable. Spencer did not move. Unable to be sheltered from it. The disharmony of the anguished melody played on.
Back straight, eyes closed, she would not let go, not of the music; not at all.
This is the way the world ends
Sprinkled lights, discordant harmony. Grief of posture and blacklisted melody, the song went on. Would not let go. Fell to the solemn end of a phrase – paused, went on. She found herself singing to it in a daze, words in a language unknown to anyone, unfounded, uncategorized. A final, lasting note, wrong, unfitting for the air, and it was gone. She did not open her eyes.
She did not open her eyes.
Not with a bang, but a whimper.