The Awakening of Delilah Eve

The music. It was the music that woke her. It was the music that drew Elisha from her bed as if in a dream and led her away from her home in the village. The music led her to the fields, where she saw... Him. She never knew his name but his eyes glittered green and the music that resonated from his violin was entrancing. She felt the music penetrate her heart and pulse round her body, she felt herself begin to sway in time. He watched her with a half smile as he played, relishing in her submission. As she danced, her blonde waves loosened from their pins and the hem of her dress began to darken with mud and tear at the edges. She could not stop even if she wanted to; she had completely succumbed to the rapture of the music and the night. The moon shone down upon the couple, highlighting the boy's vibrant red hair and the girl's pale face. The strings of the violin began to lull her; their softness dissolved any worries she had of home. She opened her eyes to see the boy put down his violin and make his way towards her, somehow the music continued around them like a thick fog enveloping her. He placed a hand to the side of her cheek, his touch burning hot but soothing against the cool night air. She didn't shy away from him, a fire burned inside her now. He looked into the deep blue of her eyes, flashing a half-smile as he tucked her hair behind her ear. She had never seen this boy before, but she did not shy away, it was the music that woke her, after that night she was never to sleep peacefully again.

***********************************

It was always quiet where Delilah lived. Residing just outside the village meant very few callers, which was just how the village liked it. She was not the only young girl in the village, however she was only ever met with stares and whispered superstition. Her mother was enslaved by folktales, and Delilah was their proof. Delilah could hear the church bells from her house, but she daren't join the community for fear of being turned away. The village had as little to do with her and her mother as possible, but they could not always avoid them. Every Saturday, the village would hold a market in which Delilah would venture alone to try and sell the milk from their cow. Some pitied her, while others laughed harshly. Delilah would sit on a small upturned crate, bottles of milk neatly presented next to her on a tattered handkerchief which was laid across a wooden barrel. She sold the milk at half the price of her competitors, but it was still rare to get custom. Awkwardly pulling at her apron, she would sit for hours whilst trying to avoid the glare of the other girls. Her simple dress and coif did little to protect her from the weather during the winter markets, with holes in the soles of her shoes that invited in more rain than kept out. After every market, Delilah would stand outside the church, closing her eyes in prayer before returning home with the few pennies she had made.

Her mother rarely ventured out, preferring to sit in a rocking chair next to the empty fireplace. She would rock and she would recite. Elisha would quietly mumble passages from the Bible every minute of every day, staring blankly at the ashes in the opening of the fireplace. For Delilah, her life was purgatory. She never felt alive, just that she was waiting for the end. She didn't understand why everyone from the village had such distaste for her and, particularly, her mother. Elisha hardly slept, insomnia wrapping itself around her mind. Delilah could always hear her at night, humming a sweet lullaby by never falling asleep. Delilah's room was at the top of the small house, a restricted attic room with nothing but a bed, a small wooden table by its side and a trunk that held what little belongings she had. If she was not looking after the cow, Delilah could be found here, creating small poppet dolls made of scraps of cloth and whatever else she could find. She lined these dolls up by her window, all with blank faces but none with glaring eyes or sneers. She would talk to them in hushed whispers so that her mother would not hear, for she knew that Elisha would not approve. At night she hid them in her trunk, in case her mother did come up to check on her, however rare that was.