La première étoile de la nuit

Translation- The First Star of the Night

TWO MONTHS EARLIER-

I don’t believe that liars burn in the flames of hell for two reasons. One, I can’t believe in hell at all, and two, that’d be sentencing myself to eternal damnation. I think this is what happens to the liars; they become frozen.

And if ever there was a night for the soul to freeze, this was it. The sky had been simmered in ice, and left to dry in an artic wind. Flames don’t actually sound that bad at the moment.  As my thoughts turn from fire and ice, and back to the world I’m in, the wind picks up, trying to penetrate my bones. The salt from the ocean carries on it, and busily entangles itself within my hair. The cliff’s edge overlooks the sea in an almost dangerous way, but I know I’m safe as long as I don’t venture too far. The sun has already set, and the shadows blend in with the soft darkness. Everything seemed to be holding its breath; waiting for the first star to come out. That’s one thing about life I can count on; there will always be a first. Everything else has been messed up lately, but they haven’t found a way to eradicate firsts just yet. It’s as if everything has been cut from the ribbon of time, leaving us to scramble around the fraying edges. Of course, that’s how the dictatorship wants it. Blood and cut throat conformity.

 My fingers run through my regulation length hair. It lies just below the shoulders, just like it should, except for one shorter strand in the front which curls to just barely touch the tip of my nose. I tuck it behind my ear and wait. Slowly, to the left the first star comes out, quickly followed by others. The wind seems to breathe a sigh of relief, and I can feel the knot in my stomach untying… they haven’t found a way to control the stars at least.

Off a bit, I can hear the quiet padding of feet. They draw closer, carrying with them the coarse breathing of William. He stops a few feet behind me, as polite as ever. “M’Lady?” he asks quietly. I know what’s coming next. It was high time that we did move, but I do love the sea shore.

“We have to move again, don’t we…” he shifts nervously from one foot to the other. He hates upsetting me.

“They’re closing in on us, I saw your picture at the market last time, remember?” he steps forward and sits cross-legged next to me so that our knees touch. “We’ll come back to the shore again… maybe not this one, but we will.”

“Don’t patronize me, Will.” I squint up into the sky. “Just ‘cause I was a spoiled child doesn’t make me a pottery doll.” I shift my weight and begin to draw in the dirt. He smiles.

“True, you’re a heck-of-a lot stronger than those fairytale princesses.”

“I’m not a princess.”

He shrugs and reclines back, putting his hands behind him. “Princess, Countess, close enough. Either way your existence is treason.”

I stare intently at the dirt trying to not let him see my eyes water up. He’s right, of course. He usually is. That doesn’t make it easy. I feel a slight pressure on my knee as he places his hand on it. I look away so he can’t figure out how good it feels. “You’ve been tough enough for one day, Morgana. Let’s go home one last time.” He stands, pulling me to my feet.

“And then to market tomorrow?”

He sighs. “And then to market tomorrow, but until then, let’s just worry about sleep.”

Reviews

[Castonovia]

Still astounds, treason whatever for... that sounds fascinating. The way you spin your words is truly beautiful and I already looooove the characters, “Just ‘cause I was a spoiled child doesn’t make me a pottery doll." ;) EPIC!!!

[Nicole]

thank you so very much! it really means a lot :) i've been thinking about maybe trying to get it published, so any and all critisism helps a ton :)

[Castonovia]

Can't wait when you do, and no problem :p