Queen of the Court of Miracles
Chapter One
A meeting
"The bird will sing,
the wolf will howl,
the sun will set with flying fowl.
The darkness will whisper,
Songs of death….
While those around us remember
How they wept.
The sea will drown all silently
We will all die eventually.
The sight will blind,
The heart beat still
But remember the Court of Miracles
Where miracles are real."
She was not the essence of beauty. Her nose was slightly long and big, highlighting a mouth that was lightly opened to allow the song to fly in a weaving pattern of haunting notes and words. Her eyes brows curved gracefully, the same color of her silky brown hair that was straightly framing her oval face. Her ears were pierced, from which dangling feathers dropped from hoops to tickle her cheekbones. One rarely noticed her stubborn chin or her semi-flattering smile. Most only noticed how they fell into her gallant eyes which seemed to switch from color to color subtly reflecting her ever changing moods. She was 14, but through those eyes you felt as if she was centuries old.
Her name was Musique, and as she sat singing outside of Notre Dame, many stopped to stare at her. Not for her looks, or to throw insults. Some did try to look disgusted, they softened their looks however as she sang. The voice was not high, nor low. It did not have an unearthly sound to it, and it was almost as soft as a whisper on the wind. It merely entranced. It wrapped it's octaves around the listeners like tendrils of wind, awakening hungers and feelings some never though they would feel again. In some, her voice awakened memories that had been forgotten once ago, and in some they forgot memories which had changed them for the worse. No one knew of these changes, no one could feel them except Musique, a singer of sorrows and joy.
Musique was settled on the steps of Notre Dame, and below the watchful eyes above did she sing. Only when the bell ringer began the twilight mass did she stop, and those reemerging and forgetting looks ran. The people did many things. The selfish and harsh sneered, pointed and laughed, the fearful ran, and some of those that saw her eyes let a few coins fall onto the steps. She did not rush to pick them up, for she knew no one would dare to steal from her.
She sat there for a long time, managing to almost look like one of the stone statues that towered over her. They were the eyes of Notre Dame, and she was the voice. No, she was not claiming she was an angel of god, or a person of a church. She was merely a voice that had a power of entrancing. Witch craft? Maybe. Pure beauty? No. A Queen? Perhaps.
The door to Notre Dame opened, and out came a misshapen, half-formed man. He was not alone, and no one stared. No one booed, or yelled, or cursed, or insulted. The selfish sneered, the fearful ran, and many people turned and waved to the Hunchback of Notre Dame, bell ringer and friend of the gypsies. He was accompanied by two lovesick, entirely different people. The beautiful dancer gypsy Esmeralda, and Phoebus, captain of the soldiers of Paris were too her friends. They all came hustling over, and Musique looked up at them with her now warm brown eyes.
"About time you guys showed up." Her voice was different. It sounded younger, and for some reason is was filled with authority. Yes, a 14 year old chastising three grown people. They all grinned and Esmeralda let out a laugh of bells. All three gave little bows to the 14 year old, and she stood and gave them simple nods in return. Quasimodo began to limp down the stairs of Notre Dame with Phoebus, leaving the two females to themselves.
"We heard you." Esmeralda looked down as the thin, lithe figure of Musique as they too began to walk. "Everyone heard you. How do you do that?"
"Do what?" The question was totally innocent, but as the younger girl looked up with that haunting look you could tell she was playing, for beneath that aged stare there was a remembrance of laughter and joy and love.
"Make people remember and forget while you sing."
"You can never truly forget, and you can never remember everything. I have no idea what you're talking about."
They stopped for a second as Musique bent over to scoop up the mixture of bronze, silver, and gold coins. They put off a glow from the flickering lamps which cast a tinkling, changing kaleidoscope on the stone. Soon they reached a dead end. Phoebus and Quasimodo had stopped, trying to feel the wall with their hands. With a slight turn of her mouth, Musique stepped forward. A low whistle sounded through her lips and than a high one that was still unbelievably soft. Finally she reached up to her neck, and pulled off a loop of rope. Gently she took the iron cross that was tied to it, and placed it between the stones into a crack. Then she rested her hand on a stone, and the wall moved to permit them to slide through.
A man waited for them on the other side, and he too bowed to the young girl.
She gave him a smile and a nod before disappearing into the dark, singing softly to herself.
"Maybe you've heard of a terrible place
Where the soundrels of Paris
Collect in a lair
Maybe you've heard of that mythical place
Called the Court of Miracles
Hello, you're there!
Where the lame can walk
And the blind can see
But the dead don't talk
So you won't be around
To reveal what you've found
We have a method for spies and intruders
Rather like hornets protecting their hive
Here in the Court of Miracles
Where it's a miracle if you get out alive.
For I am the queen of miracles.
Queen of all and nothing
Dead or alive"
Authors Note: Ah, I don't know if I'm going to continue this…. Just some random thing.