Secret Cord [Walter]

[Nekane Ylsa]

and from your lips she drew

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There was red everywhere, a soft haze that descended over the Unseelie land. It added a certain ambiance to the environment that was sorely lacking in the rest of the realms. Now why couldn’t everyone live under a red moon? Such a shame. As the day wore on the pale red would deepen as the shadows followed suit changing into a dark crimson color blanketing the land. The color of blood, fitting. A feral grin formed on her face as she took a sip of wine. Red wine of course, not nearly as ancient as she was, but the liquid coated her throat in its bitter taste. If only it was blood, right now she found that warm liquid rather inviting? Appealing? The smile fell from her face and the wine only left her parched and wanting something else. That was the damn problem! She was in this constant state of wanting something, but blast it all to hell she could not figure out what! Even as the annoyance swept through her and a low growl escaped from her mouth, it was empty. It quickly disappeared into whatever void lay inside her. Again. It left her in a state she hated.

It happened every few centuries this perpetual wanting state with no clear emotions to take hold and drown her in them. She had almost forgotten the last time. What had she done to get out of it again? She absentmindedly swirled the wine around in the glass, the red liquid coating the walls before slowly sliding back down. Ah, there it was that long forgotten memory. Blood on monastery walls, slowly falling down one by one. Monks were such easy prey, western monks all secluded from the world in their little walls. Monasteries were just big giant piñatas. She remembered that now and even then such a pleasant thought did nothing to pull her towards a resolution. She leaned back against the cathedral’s stone walls, one armed crossed over her chest. Funny to remember that here of all places, even if this cathedral was bathed in the light of a scarlet moon. Ribbons of color reached out towards her from the stained glass window but she did not bother to move. Her eyes stared at the multihued patterns on the floor. One by one. Even her latest game had ended dismally. One finger rose, slowly caressing the side of the glass as she thought back in disdain, the caress turned into tapping that increased with each passing thought.

She had done everything right. She had chosen her players well or rather they had chosen her, maybe that was where everything went wrong. Nekane could remember the rush of anger she had felt as the mortal child had tumbled into her, her little hand reaching out and grabbing onto her arm. She shuddered even now at the dirt that soon covered her fine white blouse. Oh the mother had been professing apologies and the girl had looked sheepishly up at her with those brown doe eyes framed by pretty little curls. She had even smiled cordially at them both, smiling the matter away while the inferno burned inside of her shown only by the light in her eyes as she watched them leave. The little brat had a father, a father who loved his family. A perfect little world in their suburban bubble. It was all too perfect when love was involved. Blessings to whatever cursed being that never let her feel that emotion! So horrible to endure such things? What better barrier was there in the world than the commitment of love? Bah, a waste of emotions when there were better ones to experience in the world. But love was good for one thing, it was easy to exploit, easy to manipulate, and so easy to destroy.

The wind howled outside their house for nights, the little girl cowering under her blankets while her parents reassured her. That’s when she came in her glamor gone, stealing in through an open window. Hadn’t the girl loved her then? A fairy godmother! So pretty. She had coddled her, played with those pretty little curls, and every night she told the girl stories of far away places and princesses. Adoration grew in the girl and worry in her parents who had to listen about her newest “friend.” Chip by chip she broke them apart. Whispers to the father, whispers to the mother, and stories to the girl. But that wasn’t enough. She felt nothing even then as their world began to crumble because they still LOVED each other. They still clung to each other at night, whispering apologies that overshadowed her own words. It was easy by then to take care of everything, the crescendo! The little girl had been lying at her feet, her teddy tucked under her arm, as Nekane had told her final story. The doorbell had sounded, unrepentantly but she had kept her story going even as the girl’s attention wavered. The mother received a simple box with a pretty ribbon tying it together, a hand written note. She recognized her husband’s writing, even if it seemed messier than usual. A smile on her face she had opened the box as Nekane finished her story. There resting in the pretty satin folds of fabric were two bloody knee caps, sawed off completely with tell tale screw holes at odd intervals with a note. Your husband won’t be needing these anymore. The mother screamed as she disappeared leaving the girl alone in her horror and the mother in grief.

It had been a masterful game! Timed perfectly! But still she had watched it all as though she were separate from her body. Detached and uninterested, merely moving through the motions. She took another sip of wine, trying to savor the taste but there was nothing on her tongue to taste but bitterness. She wanted to be angry enough to throw the glass against the wall and hear it shatter into a thousand pieces. But nothing happened. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing! “I am not amused, not even the antics of the council to amuse me.” She drifted in that state, the colors from the glass moving over her legs, covering half of her in a rainbow display any peacock would be proud of. “Fuck.”

She was a bomb ready to explode, tearing herself to pieces in the process, but oh the devastation she'd cause.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

the HALLELUJAH

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