"I'm so sorry," a calm voice says.
I feel grey, bleak, and an enchanting lullaby rests in my brain. My eyes dart around my eyelids. Shut tight, and pitch black. I've squeezed then so hard I can't feel a speck of light pushing through. I feel a firm arm pressed against my shoulder and another one looped around my knees. Footsteps crunch around me.
"We're almost there," the voice says. Like a baby, I turn over in the arms and muffle out a sound like a yes or mmhm.
•••
"Please don't go, I love you!" Flint cries out and his fingertips reach toward me. His hands are clean,
pure, and they gleam in the air. He is the beam in the darkness where we stand. We stand face to face, nothing between us. No floor, no wall, just a pit of black soup that extends out in every direction.
Behind me is black, Flint is a celestial
being stirring magic around me. My hair breezes behind me from an imaginary wind.
His hands look inviting. I reach out toward them, my fingertips grazing the edge of his. I slide my fingers back, they snap away from him, and curl into a fist. His fingertips begin to disintegrate from
the edges and sparkle. They melt into the ground like a sandy dune. Being breezed and toppled over, they gently splat into the soup of blackness. If I listen enough, I hear the grainy sound his flesh makes as it unravels.
Behind me, someone sings a song. A smooth lullaby that I've heard I long time ago. I feel like a baby, a woman rocking me gently in a crib, beautiful words whisper a song. Smooth, pink, unfamiliar lips coo out soothing words. The softness comes from her throat, overriding the lyrics and making melodic nonsense.
"Mom?" I call out into the emptiness. I shut my eyes and prepare my mind to turn myself around.
A second hand reaches toward me, the fingertips are scuffed from hard work, his palms are covered in ink from notes and addresses. I look to his face, I see nothing but a pair of unusual eyes.
I've chosen.
I grab his hand.
I wake up, my heart thumps, it beats a million times a minute. My breathing becomes heavy, like I've ran a long distance. My pulse becomes too much for my lungs to catch up with. I grab at my chest and feel an unusual pair of pajamas. My vision clears, I realize that I'm not in my bedroom. I lay awake in a strange bed, my leotard and boots have been taken off and replaced with silk pajamas. The pajamas are a blush pink color, laced together with dark green stitches. Across the bed, on the door, hangs a-line white skirt made of tulle, a pair of short, tan boots with too many buckles, and a bandeau type shirt in a dark red color.
I brush the bed linens off myself and place my hand on the doorknob. I stop short from pushing it opening.
I look above to my goddesses, "Astrape, grant me your power. Bronte, show me your strength."
I keep an arm tucked behind me, I fill it with the contents of magic thunder, enough to knock
someone unconscious, if need be. I push open the door, and follow down the hallway. The house is yellow, a happy and inviting orange. It's filled with an unexplored happiness and a welcoming, but mysterious feeling.
An inviting sound of breakfast sizzles and a woman hums herself a song. A male voice talks over her, the window is wide open. I hear the curtains clank against the walls. Heavy metal chains gently rock back and forth and pound themselves into the wall. A bird sings itself a tune. Someone laughs. It's warm. I peek my head around the kitchen and gaze into the kitchen.
I see the Boy of Lullabies.
Just enough to knock him out and the woman.
"Low Storm Autum-" I began to chant, the Boy of Lullabies turns himself around with a second to spare. His eyes grow a size and he jumps to his feet. His eyes meet mine, that enchanting double color subsides my concentration once more.
