Letting go and unraveling the cloak was a more arduous task than the Queen had anticipated. Her fingers bled and ached. Her back was sore from sitting over the work. The dim light of the candles and the fire strained her eyes and gave her headaches. There were many nights when she could not bare to pick up the work. She would let her mind wonder and her heart be hopeful. If only for a little bit.
One night the Queen was sitting up in her bed drifting off, when the glittering voice spoke to her. Her heart dropped into her stomach. She wanted answers. She was determined to get them. But he would not relent. He had a message for her. He had become a messenger for the Powers That Be, a harbinger of ill news.
"The Powers That Be believe your punishment is not enough to wipe your crimes clean."
The Queen ground her teeth together and she glared at the glittering light. What new horror did the Powers have in mind for her?
"You are to take care of a small community of sick elders in the village."
The Queen said nothing. Is that all they want?
"You are to work in addition to your duties at the library."
The Queen was enraged. The shackle was not enough for Them. And how dare he be the messenger after months of silence.
"You left me! With no explanation, with no good-bye, with no lead for me to look. Now you come to tell me my punishment is not enough for Them?" The Queen raged.
"I do what I have to because I have no choice," the voice replied calmly.
"I want answers!" she demanded
"And you will have them," and with that he left.
The next morning brought a messenger from the Powers to give the Queen directions of where to go. The village had one lone tower at the end of the main road. No one ever went there except to die. The villagers never spoke of the tower and when they looked in the direction of the end of town it was as if the tower did not exist. No one looked at the Queen as she made her way to the tower. They all knew that only those who were suffering a punishment were sent to work at the tower. The Queen couldn't help but feel slightly sick to her stomach. The glittering light gave her no clues as to what she would be doing or why she was being sent to work at the tower in addition to her duties at the library.
When the Queen arrived, she saw an older woman with a bird's nest of blonde hair sitting on a bench outside the tower. On her lap sat a folded piece of brown rough spun cloth. She smiled widely at the Queen and stood to greet her. She was the proprietress of the establishment. The rough spun cloth was the overdress the Queen was to change into for her work. The Proprietress wasted no time in ushering the Queen into the tower toward the dressing room. She talked incessantly about herself and her background. It had been her calling she said, to work with the aged and the ill. The Queen would find the work rewarding and her trainers knowledgeable.
Once changed the Queen was pushed along up a stairway, the whole time getting a list of the things she was to learn to do and the responsibilities she was to eventually take on. The Queen felt as though she was going to be sick. She was to learn her duties with the elderly that could no longer remember their lives or their loved ones. She would mix the things the apothecary prescribed for each person and give it to them within two hours. She was to do this twice during her shift. She was to take care of all wounds, all illnesses, and make sure all were fed and clean. She would make sure that no one hurt themselves that in the event the doctor were to arrive she would follow all orders. Above all she was to document everything and make sure the slaves were doing their jobs correctly or she would lose hers. She would start with these 20 elderly, then move to 32.
The Queen was introduced to her trainer and was left to work. The hours were long and back breaking. She was overwhelmed. One night while she sat writing the glittering voice visited her. She was too tired to ask questions or even care for answers. She just needed someone to listen. He did. He told her stories and made her laugh. When she wasn't so exhausted from working and her weight she would remember her need for answers. He would give her small things, but never enough for her to see the whole picture. She began to do research on her own and turned up with nothing. The picture was turning out to have holes and shadows. Things she could not see or understand. She was missing some key, something she knew was not right. She was becoming more and more unsettled with him. Each day she grew more exhausted from her work. Days would drag on. She hardly slept at night. It became demanding. She was overwhelmed.
She lay in her bed in her chamber in the far wing. She stared blankly at the ceiling. It was so soft she almost didn't hear it. Faint and fading. Memorized she sat up and looked out of her window. He stood there. In the patch of garden where she had dug up all the weeds until after her hands were raw and bleeding. He was lit with a glow. It was familiar. It was him. She knew it was the man from the strange dream she had, had so long ago. She quickly got up and put on her dark cloak and boots. She ran from the manor house as quickly as she could. He moved into the woods. She ran faster to keep up. His glow kept going deeper and deeper into the wood. She kept running. Tree branches scratched at her face and arms, tugged at her cloak and skirts. They tangled into her hair. She kept running. His glow got closer and closer. Finally, she came upon him in a small clearing among the trees and rocks. He was as beautiful as she remembered from her dreams. He was the glowing light she had talked to for so long. Her breath was gone. She was filled with a liquid warmth. Her fingers tingled. Her heart was full to the bursting. She moved toward him. He smiled, it shattered the strength in her legs. Before she went crashing into the forest floor he caught her. His arms were warm and solid around her waist. She could not catch her breath.
"I have been waiting for you for a long time Motek," his deep voice whispered into her ears.
His warm hands cupped her face and he kissed her. She could not think, she could not stand. She could not breathe. She could not breathe. Her lungs began to burn. He continued to kiss her. She burned. A small voice in the back of her head began to scream. It became louder and louder as the kiss became stronger and the burn painful. The scream became deafening. She realized it was she who was screaming. She broke the kiss. The glow gone, her hands on fire. In her palms lit by the full moon was a large wizened frog. Anger welled up from the pit of her stomach. She screamed in rage and threw the frog into the rocks.
He transformed before the Queen. He grew and grew until an old battle hardened king stood before her. His pale rheumy blue eyes looked at her pleadingly with thankfulness.
"Why did you do this to me?" she screamed in painful rage. Her arms burned, her body shook with illness.
"It was the only way I could get you to free me," he responded in an old tired voice.
"Why me?" she cried in agony.
"Because you were the only one who could," he responded softly.
He made to move toward her. She backed away in horror.
"Please understand Lady. You were the only one. You are the only one. Please accept my hand. I am old but I can give you everything you need. Everything you've wanted and waited for. I can free you from your pain and punishment."
Overwhelming grief engulfed the Queen. Her shackle weighed on her more than it ever had, nearly buckling her knees. She couldn't.
"No," she said weakly.
He took another step toward her. She backed away.
"Lady, I love you. No one will love you as I do. Please."
Deep in her bones she knew he was right. But she couldn't.
"No," she said choked with misery, "Good-bye." She turned and stumbled off into the woods.
"Please!" he begged.
She continued to stumble, faster and faster. The grief took over her. It tore at her soul and her body. The weight got heavier and heavier the further she went. She began to wail. Tears streamed down her face. Blind she walked on. For hours she haunted the woods with her wailing and wandering. She wasn't sure when she had stopped and fallen asleep. She could not tell whether she she was awake or asleep, when she came upon the stone table. She watch the scene in a daze. At the north of the table in a great high backed chair sat the knight with the eagle crest. Her box sat squarely on his lap, his long sword unsheathed on top. On the table in front of him lay a pillow soft and white as snow. Directly opposite at the southern end was a small staircase that climbed to the table top. Around the sides floated the Rasha'im. On either side of the small stair case stood a knight with a wolf crest and his sister. Both dark haired. He had light blue eyes , she a deep earth brown. Both wore heart breaking sadness on their faces.
There she stood. The Queen watched herself, but not herself, a pure version. Her dark hair loose down her back, her skin pale as the moon, her eyes deep green. She wore a gown of pure white, long, soft, and flowing. Tears ran down her perfect cheeks. She walked up to the staircase. The brother and sister assisted her in ascending the staircase. When the pure Queen reached the table top the siblings unsheathed large razor sharp swords and turned to stand guard. The pure Queen slowly walked toward the pillow tears still rolling down her soft cheeks. She knelt just before the pillow The knight with the eagle crest nodded, a single tear escaped down his young face. The pure Queen placed her head on the pillow and lay with her face to the stars. The tears did not stop, they glittered coldly in the starlight. The Rasha'im straightened her gown and dark hair around her. They softly rested her hands across her abdomen. The pure Queen released a sorrowful sob, closed her eyes, and fell into a sleep of death.
The Queen had watched her spirit die. She fell to her knees and wailed again.
When she woke in the morning, something had changed. Her heart had shifted. It was no longer there. She was dead, but very much alive. She sat up and looked around. There was no evidence of the events from the night before except two things: the cold within her and a sword. It felt like ice in her hands. Glacial water ran through her veins now instead of warm blood. Her back bone straight and her face firm, the Queen stood with the sword in her hand. Her eyes were dead cold jade. She smiled wickedly and with an evil giggle she set upon her way, away from the knight and his lady, the shackle had become her battle scars and she wore it with a steel pride. She strengthened her grip on the sword and as she walked, with a cold wicked sweetness she called, "Here froggy, froggy, froggy..."
To be continued...
PLAY LIST:
Asleep- Emily Browning, Sucker Punch Soundtrack
Cold (But I'm Still Here)- Evans Blue
Fallen- Sarah McLachlan
I Grieve- Peter Gabriel, City of Angels Soundtrack
I Will Not Bow- Breaking Benjamin
Iris- Goo Goo Dolls
It's the Only One You've Got- Three Doors Down
Life Starts Now- Three Days Grace
Like a Machine- Tragedy Machine
Name- Goo Goo Dolls
Never Too Late- Three Days Grace
Pain- Three Days Grace
Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)- Emily Browning, Sucker Punch Soundtrack
The Diary of Jane- Breaking Benjamin
No comments:
Post a Comment