Magenta Monster

The dark sleet froze to the surface of the purple specked obsidian, it had a lustre like the abyss and fractured in jagged concentric twists, Annealia knelt before this alter to sing. Her hair seemed to rise and stand out from her fine classic face, regal nose and high check bones, too pale for even 100 summers of forced imprisonment. Her hair floated around her in erri wisps as if caught in some current. Her eyes were closed in concentration, a lapis blue glitter stained her lids excentuating her frigid demenour.

Her lips moved with the song though no sound could be heard in the great cathedral cave, white satin spilled out around her with the glint of silver embroidery, it was the most expensive gown in existance. Annealia would have exhanged it for the coarses cloth without a thought. The turquoise gems at her throat seemed to burn her with heat so cold it would blister any fingers that dared to touch it and yet her skin was unbroken, only she knew of the pain and that she could not acknowledge.

She had been singing for 6 days now, and only the snap and crack of the lightning cracking across her skin kept her from falling forward into slumber. The end was growing near, her lips were moving but it was such an effort to remember…

The air seemed to snatch the words almost rip them in velvet gore from her throat, she was drowning within herself – the process was eating her and yet when she had last been able to open her eyes she had seen it. The coloured ribbon so bright snaking its way through the air in a dance of continual creation. She had been part of that song once and her world relied on this… this sacrifice. She carried on singing. The cavern dwellers watched silently. Few lasted this long and when she was gone one of them would be chosen. The world glittered as a jewelled marble woven from the strands of the girls song but soon she would be able to sing no more and the end times would rip that little globe to pieces.

But time was different here and where they now dwelt and one of them would heal those cracks and begin the world anew. The priestess stood above Annealia watching and waiting, a sword of cracking ice sat awaiting the faltering note, the dark smudge in the rainbow light. Darkness would come then for the world and for the girl who sung it into being and then the next of them would be trussed into the dress, strange how it never showed the stain, they never bled the words had sucked them dry.

Annealia sung and sung and still the words were creating the world in her image, she was no longer concouse of the pain nor the cavern or her sisters. There was just this she was the blue fire at the center of the note, she was pulse of the universe, she was no more, just a song, a note forever sustained.

Posted: Friday, March 29th, 2013 @ 7:01 pm
Categories: Uncategorized.
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