AUTHOR'S NOTE: YOU MUST READ TO UNDERSTAND: I think. Well; here's the third one. The theme for these three stories has been the roads in our lives. Ginny's lives, rather. She plays the role person, the speaker, in all these one-shots. They aren't consecutive, but each one is a different story. A different road. The first one was a road of happiness...which ended in pain. The second was a road of horror...which ended in joy...and this...you'll just have to read the story...and the AN at the end.
DISCLAIMER:Not mine unless it doesn't belong to J. K. Rowling.
Three Paths of Gold and Silver and Black
I stand on a beautiful raised platform. A stage in its own. Of fire. And ice. And water and wind and earth and cold and heat and light and dark. It swirls around me and fills me with this sense of lightness.
I have more freedom than I have ever been allotted in my entire life. I turn with ease, swivelling gracefully on the spot to peer around me. There are three paths that lead from my dais. One of the richest gold, one of the purest silver, and one of the darkest black.
I can see far into the distance, though I try not to look down at the dizzying voids that gap the paths. It occurs to me that I must choose. I do not understand why, but I can only choose one. This I know and this I have not been told.
Grass seems to grow beneath my feet and I wish that I could merely stay where I am. The ground is so soft and the wind so gentle. I decide to weigh my options. I turn, fire licking at the grass, to the gold path.
It shimmers and gleams with a light with seemingly no source. I can't help but sit and stare. I want to touch it…to watch it always. It twists and turns anxiously, calling me down it. I can hear voices calling me to come and walk down the pathway strewn with light and warmth and strength.
For a second I am heartened to take the path. But the wind and the cold and the ice rise up on me and I do not feel the strength enough to travel the sturdy gold bridge. I turn, instead to the silver path.
It glitters and shines from within, a soft glow that brims to the very surface, which is malleable and gentle. It is long and delicate and calls with a grace sweeter than phoenix song. It calls to me and I ache to lie down on it. Music of no notes nor voice echoes from its recesses and wearily I yearn to just fall into it.
But the fire and the heat burn up a wall in me…it does not strengthen, but encourages…it braces my will and pulls me to the third bridge. It is black. So black it appears as a shadow against the dull black of the endless void that surrounds it. It is worn and cracked…as from many feet and bodies that have fallen upon it. I can hear cries and screams calling, begging, praying…but for me? For my help?
I turn again and consider each.
I spin many times, ice giving way to fire and water, giving way to earth and wind, each in its own turn giving me something…telling me something.
Songs play over and over in my heart as memories flash constantly in my mind. I have stood here an age or two and yet time seems to be suspended. I have forgotten from whence I came. Nor do I know where I am to go. No road calls explicitly to me.
I take a breath…of fire and heat. I will my body to react and move. I feel my foot sliding through the fiery grass. I step onto the black bridge.
And I wake up.
ooo
oo
o
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, there it is. Confusing, right? So this is the explanation; if you want one. Ginny's little elemental dais was a sort of state of limbo. The idea was she was stuck, most likely in a coma, and had a decision to make. Only thing was, the appearances of the roads didn't match up. The gold road was one of death. Strength and warmth were needed to pass on from her life into the next. The silver road was one of birth. The gentility of it would lead her into being birthed anew. And the black path was back to her life.
But the big question is...did she choose the right path afterall...?
You decide.