Disenchanted Lullabye
Author: Kaia Mariacle
Disclaimer: Not mine. At all. Too bad, so sad.....for me, that is.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A boy lost; futurefic.(sequel to MIA)
Author's Notes: This son-of-a-bitch would not write! I tried and tried, and tried some more, but the bunny bit my ass and let go, and bit my ass, and let go......and so on. Ephram and Colin were like, "Do something, we're bored just standing here, we want smoochies." I was like, "Sorry guys, no smoochies yet, actually, no anything yet!" But the bunny finally bit and hung on, and I finally got this part done. Thank. You. God. (exaggerated sigh)
Dedicated to: All the other Everwood slashers who are desperately in need of something to read. I know that I check my inbox every day, but alas, the fics are few and far between. Good thing that when a new one does come out, it's of a very high quality.
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You're floating.
Notes stream by, full of sharp tones and textures. The bright, bursting clinks of a piano whizzing to and fro, sparking against your fingers, your lips.
They seem to leave a trail of color. The brightest a piercing green, more subtle are a hopeful shade of teal, and the unearthly wisdom of hazel. Streams of pale
gold trickle across your nose, and you sneeze. Wisps of chocolate sweep broadly around your neck, and you giggle.
You seem to be standing still, and at the same time moving beyond.
When the colors stop, you feel shadows wrapping around your waist, almost embracing you, and you sigh, and can nearly feel the strong muscles, the tender grip.
But those times are fleeting because the music starts all over, and the colors blind you once more.
Sometimes though, the colors are so dazzling and the music so grand that you fall and hears whispers of voices. Low and breathy and joyless.
And so desperate that it drowns out everything else, and you have to hold your head and wait for the tears to stop.
The whispers are familiar and you want oh so much to answer, but you can't.
The music is too beautiful, and the colors so brilliant.
You never want to leave, but one day in this paradise, everything is silent, everything is muted.
Everything is dead.
And the whispers are much louder, so loud that you scream.
So loud that the tears stop, and you weep dryly, and you open your mouth, and try to speak, but nothing comes out.
Because you don't know how.
The whispers are now horrifying echoes, surrounding you, and you're screaming for them to stop. Mouthing the words, your face a silent picture of agony.
The whispers stop, and you wait for the colors to whirl around, but your soon encompassed by endless white. Swirling and blinding.
You can't see anything, and then you open your eyes.
And you see colors, you're surrounded by them.
They're harsh and painful to look at, and then you notice that there's someone looking at you, and you turn your head, and look down.
Gratefully, happily, wondrously, into piercing green.
The music surrounds you once more, but the colors don't twirl wildy, squeezing your waist tightly.
They're contained in a face that skirts on the edge of your mind.
Then, all of a sudden, the green is gone. Your favorite color is gone, and the music stops.
You're laying alone, in a hospital bed, you finally realize. You look around, as if for the first time, and you peer out the window, blearily wondering why there's a
mountain outside your window.
You didn't know there were mountains in Manhattan.
A door slams open loudly to your left, and you move your head, despite the excruciating ache inside it.
Your dad stands there, hands shaking, tears streaming down his face. Delia is next to him, looking up at you, and you frown.
Because when did she get so tall?
The boy with the piercing green eyes is back, and he's got a hand resting gently on your sister's shoulder. He's gazing at you in wonder and hopelessness.
You turn your eyes away from him, and try to smile at your sister, but it comes out as more of a grimace. Your father blinks, hesitating as he steps closer.
"Ephram...are....how do you....feel?"
You don't know what he means, and you don't know why his eyes are filled with relief and why they look so old.
A little voice in the back of your head is whispering that he looks strange, because it's only been three days since you've seen him, and he couldn't have grown
such a thick beard in so short a time.
You blink at him in confusion, and look back down at your sister.
"Are you....really awake, Ephram?"
You stare at her.
You stare at your dad.
You open your mouth, and you finally speak.
"Dad, where's mom?"
~Finis~
