Lyra
The air was still and warm, soft in its delicious suffocation. She could feel the warmth fill her lungs, straining to draw in the breath. Every moment she drifted further out on a dead river, drifting on a box boat. The stars twinkled like tiny flames above her, burning up the atmosphere in white light. The silence grew heavier and heavier, pushing her down and pinning her in her imagined vessel. Candles floated past on this imaginary sea, sparkling in the endless darkness and gently burning all memory. She wondered if this could go on forever or if it would somehow end, her thoughts dancing about her.
Gently, she began to twirl, her little boat turning slowly like the needle of a compass, growing faster and faster. Everything moved by until all was blended together into a weary gray, melting and running to the bottom of the water. It dripped and faded until all that could be seen were four white walls and a white door.
She stood from her dissipated boat and traveled for hours to the white door that, a moment ago, had stood a hand’s breadth away. When she turned the silver handle she found herself suddenly filled with cool tongues of flame, burning up from within until everything was ablaze. She could not feel, only the flames drowning her beneath waves of heat-possessed feeling. They burned her into ashes, then froze her in cold fire. She collapsed, falling to her knees, frozen and burnt.
A hand took her arm and pulled her out of herself, leaving the burning corpse to brighten the white room. When she opened her eyes, she saw everything in a different light and a man, with enchanted green eyes, closed them again. Blinded, she struggled to move, but could not, trapped in icy quicksand. Then everything stood still, time not even daring to move. The enchanted green eyes opened her silver ones to a violent sunrise that changed all to blood and rained fiery petals of forgotten flowers.
When her eyes opened again she was encased in metal, trapped in an iron prison. The enchanted green eyes stood outside her, pouring into her soul and forcing himself into her mind. She fought the eyes, fought the prison only to find herself being dragged deeper into the depths of it by chains of sky and moon. Silenced by a wickedness that lay at the center of the enchanted green eyes.
Lyra awoke with a start, trembling and shaken by her nightmare. Her heart was beating erratically, her breathing ragged and forced. She was drenched in a cold sweat, the room seeming to rock like a storm tossed ship around her. She was also shivering with cold. She pretended that it was because the windows of her room had been blown open by a sudden gust of wind, with lacy flakes of snow swirling about her. Slowly, she would push aside the blanket her mother had given her, reluctant to leave that warm bed, then light a candle. She imagined herself going to the windows, quickly closing them, securing the latch and then finding her way back to the bed. Crawling back under her warm blankets, she shivered from more than cold.
Once again wrapped in her imagination, she began to think, forcing her weary mind to focus. She found herself drifting, like in her dreams, more often now. Drifting farther from the friendly nurses, from her mother, from love and time. She seemed so out of place in this realm of the living, drifting further out. The dreams, she did not understand them. Didn’t recognize the meanings beneath the surface of what she saw. She didn’t want to understand. She just wanted to lead a normal life, not live within this glass coffin everyone else built for her. She never strayed from her box, gazing out into the world that was denied her and never truly living.
She shivered, pulling the blankets up and almost over her head. Morning would arrive soon, her fiery birth igniting the sky and awaking all that inhabited the city. And she would be among the living again, jostled about and drifting. Lyra sighed heavily, turning over and hugging her pillow close.
Realizing that it was useless to try and sleep any longer, she pretended that she stood from her canopied bed. Her black spider’s silk gown falling all about her in an onyx pool, the contrast of dark against light skin glowing slightly in the pale candlelight. She would rub her hands together, the room brisk from its moments of interaction with the snowy night. She would place some more logs on the dying fire and curl up on a window seat, staring out into the starry dark.
She imagined that she lived in a large manor house, in a quiet city called Eve, where, instead of a sun and a moon, there were two moons. One to light the day and one to light the night. Right now the night moon of Eve would glow in an ethereal black light, the children of Eve waiting on every venomous word that fell from the moon’s scarred lips.
In the twilight of her mind, she could faintly make out the spires of Aeris rising over the crest a place she called the Forgotten Hills. Aeris, Eve’s sister city, glowed faintly as rain fell over the place. It would be a very different experience for Lyra, to see the rainfall, but not on her city, not on her. How beautiful to watch the tears of heaven’s womb fall upon the heads of her brothers, upon the world on the other side of the vast mirror that separated the two. Still dreaming of her imaginary world, she began to fall asleep, her essence flowing out and walking outside of her.
She watched herself sleep for a moment, gently pushing back an ivory strand from her face. Then she began to glide out of the room, pushing past walls and doors as if they did not exist. She watched children sleeping in their beds, curled up with their teddy bears. She floated past the Eve Lilies, their bright pink and white blushing against the starry sky. Stopping by a small brook, she watched as black swans drifted down stream, their children lying slain on the shores. She knew the signs, but could not turn back to awaken.
Slowly, Lyra traveled further and further from herself. Farther than she had ever been, farther than she wanted to be from that darkened window seat in her mind. The white pavement beneath her feet became broken emerald stones, eroded by time. Everything was changing. Dying trees, twisted by memories of a time and a pain unknown to mankind, surrounded her. Ahead of her was a crossroad, with blackened fields beside her and a scarecrow hanging from his post.
Suddenly, the scarecrow looked up, his violent green eyes trapping her where she stood. She knew those eyes, knew that face. She had seen them once in a dream, a dream from thousands of nights long gone. His mouth moved, no sound coming from the twisted lips, but the words soared, screaming and smashing, within her mind.
“Get Out! GET OUT!” the words said. They threatened to shatter her psyche, threatening to break her soul. Before the words could destroy her, she fled. Her haunted feet flying past dead trees, past sleeping children, past dead and dying swans, back to her body. Back to safety, back to the white prison that had become her home. The voice echoed in her brain, trapping her in a living nightmare, refusing to let her go. Screaming, her eyes finally opened, the green eyes imprinted upon her soul and the violence of the voice’s warning reverberating through out her body.
The air was still and warm, soft in its delicious suffocation. She could feel the warmth fill her lungs, straining to draw in the breath. Every moment she drifted further out on a dead river, drifting on a box boat. The stars twinkled like tiny flames above her, burning up the atmosphere in white light. The silence grew heavier and heavier, pushing her down and pinning her in her imagined vessel. Candles floated past on this imaginary sea, sparkling in the endless darkness and gently burning all memory. She wondered if this could go on forever or if it would somehow end, her thoughts dancing about her.
Gently, she began to twirl, her little boat turning slowly like the needle of a compass, growing faster and faster. Everything moved by until all was blended together into a weary gray, melting and running to the bottom of the water. It dripped and faded until all that could be seen were four white walls and a white door.
She stood from her dissipated boat and traveled for hours to the white door that, a moment ago, had stood a hand’s breadth away. When she turned the silver handle she found herself suddenly filled with cool tongues of flame, burning up from within until everything was ablaze. She could not feel, only the flames drowning her beneath waves of heat-possessed feeling. They burned her into ashes, then froze her in cold fire. She collapsed, falling to her knees, frozen and burnt.
A hand took her arm and pulled her out of herself, leaving the burning corpse to brighten the white room. When she opened her eyes, she saw everything in a different light and a man, with enchanted green eyes, closed them again. Blinded, she struggled to move, but could not, trapped in icy quicksand. Then everything stood still, time not even daring to move. The enchanted green eyes opened her silver ones to a violent sunrise that changed all to blood and rained fiery petals of forgotten flowers.
When her eyes opened again she was encased in metal, trapped in an iron prison. The enchanted green eyes stood outside her, pouring into her soul and forcing himself into her mind. She fought the eyes, fought the prison only to find herself being dragged deeper into the depths of it by chains of sky and moon. Silenced by a wickedness that lay at the center of the enchanted green eyes.
Lyra awoke with a start, trembling and shaken by her nightmare. Her heart was beating erratically, her breathing ragged and forced. She was drenched in a cold sweat, the room seeming to rock like a storm tossed ship around her. She was also shivering with cold. She pretended that it was because the windows of her room had been blown open by a sudden gust of wind, with lacy flakes of snow swirling about her. Slowly, she would push aside the blanket her mother had given her, reluctant to leave that warm bed, then light a candle. She imagined herself going to the windows, quickly closing them, securing the latch and then finding her way back to the bed. Crawling back under her warm blankets, she shivered from more than cold.
Once again wrapped in her imagination, she began to think, forcing her weary mind to focus. She found herself drifting, like in her dreams, more often now. Drifting farther from the friendly nurses, from her mother, from love and time. She seemed so out of place in this realm of the living, drifting further out. The dreams, she did not understand them. Didn’t recognize the meanings beneath the surface of what she saw. She didn’t want to understand. She just wanted to lead a normal life, not live within this glass coffin everyone else built for her. She never strayed from her box, gazing out into the world that was denied her and never truly living.
She shivered, pulling the blankets up and almost over her head. Morning would arrive soon, her fiery birth igniting the sky and awaking all that inhabited the city. And she would be among the living again, jostled about and drifting. Lyra sighed heavily, turning over and hugging her pillow close.
Realizing that it was useless to try and sleep any longer, she pretended that she stood from her canopied bed. Her black spider’s silk gown falling all about her in an onyx pool, the contrast of dark against light skin glowing slightly in the pale candlelight. She would rub her hands together, the room brisk from its moments of interaction with the snowy night. She would place some more logs on the dying fire and curl up on a window seat, staring out into the starry dark.
She imagined that she lived in a large manor house, in a quiet city called Eve, where, instead of a sun and a moon, there were two moons. One to light the day and one to light the night. Right now the night moon of Eve would glow in an ethereal black light, the children of Eve waiting on every venomous word that fell from the moon’s scarred lips.
In the twilight of her mind, she could faintly make out the spires of Aeris rising over the crest a place she called the Forgotten Hills. Aeris, Eve’s sister city, glowed faintly as rain fell over the place. It would be a very different experience for Lyra, to see the rainfall, but not on her city, not on her. How beautiful to watch the tears of heaven’s womb fall upon the heads of her brothers, upon the world on the other side of the vast mirror that separated the two. Still dreaming of her imaginary world, she began to fall asleep, her essence flowing out and walking outside of her.
She watched herself sleep for a moment, gently pushing back an ivory strand from her face. Then she began to glide out of the room, pushing past walls and doors as if they did not exist. She watched children sleeping in their beds, curled up with their teddy bears. She floated past the Eve Lilies, their bright pink and white blushing against the starry sky. Stopping by a small brook, she watched as black swans drifted down stream, their children lying slain on the shores. She knew the signs, but could not turn back to awaken.
Slowly, Lyra traveled further and further from herself. Farther than she had ever been, farther than she wanted to be from that darkened window seat in her mind. The white pavement beneath her feet became broken emerald stones, eroded by time. Everything was changing. Dying trees, twisted by memories of a time and a pain unknown to mankind, surrounded her. Ahead of her was a crossroad, with blackened fields beside her and a scarecrow hanging from his post.
Suddenly, the scarecrow looked up, his violent green eyes trapping her where she stood. She knew those eyes, knew that face. She had seen them once in a dream, a dream from thousands of nights long gone. His mouth moved, no sound coming from the twisted lips, but the words soared, screaming and smashing, within her mind.
“Get Out! GET OUT!” the words said. They threatened to shatter her psyche, threatening to break her soul. Before the words could destroy her, she fled. Her haunted feet flying past dead trees, past sleeping children, past dead and dying swans, back to her body. Back to safety, back to the white prison that had become her home. The voice echoed in her brain, trapping her in a living nightmare, refusing to let her go. Screaming, her eyes finally opened, the green eyes imprinted upon her soul and the violence of the voice’s warning reverberating through out her body.
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