Clandestine
Silver Nightingale
October 13, 2007
They have taken her away.
A lone drop of emotion mutely etched down Sylvia's cheek; her entire body shook with renounced despair as the words infinitely reverberated within the recesses of her weary mind.
They have taken her away.
With each resounding echo, the woman lingered ever closer to the well of insanity.
Despite being cursed with a frail body, Sylvia had once could never forget how elated she and her groom had been when they heard that she would be blessed by a child. And a child indeed came; Meryl, they had named her. Sylvia could never recall another moment when her heart had danced with so much warmth more than it had when she had laid eyes on her beautiful, beautiful daughter. However, the glimmer of happiness was quickly being transformed into a repugnant wave of realization. And the realization was lost just as soon as it had come, as the mourning woman's mind threatened to collapse at the sheer abomination of the idea.
Her soul sobbed as her knees met stone, cold and hard. Much like reality, her mind whispered mockingly, delighting itself in laughter as its words effectively hacked through the woman's fabric of existence. Or were the bubbles of mirth escaping from her own mouth instead? Sylvia did not know. She need not know. She could not know.
Silence dawned. And silence prematurely ended as a soft and gentle melody drifted through the air as a string of familiar words stumbled over Sylvia's lips. The song was hauntingly soothing. A smile ghosted over Sylvia's face, so very fast it could not have been there at all as the remnants of her conscious mind remembered how sweetly Meryl had giggled whenever she sang the lullaby. She remembered how Meryl's tiny mouth would curl from an angelic smile to an adorable little yawn before her twinkling eyes settled themselves to the land of sleep. Meryl always loved to listen to her mother sing. Bewilderment washed through Sylvia's form. Who was it that was Meryl's mother again? Sylvia seemed to have forgotten.
Dead eyes aimlessly wandered before settling on the vastness of the sea. The blank gaze turned jovial, however, at the sight of the ebbing turquoise pool. It was wondrous how much the color resembled Meryl's eyes. How lovely it must be to simply stare at the magnificent hue from morning until dusk, forever until the day the Storm claims her. And how ironic it was that Sylvia never even realized that the waves have already embraced her lovingly within their never ending flow, for as far as Sylvia may have known, she was simply joining her own child for a moment of respite. How sad, though, that Sylvia never had a child to begin with.