Tears Unnumbered [EDITING]

Nameless

You are safe and warm here,

God will protect you from harm

Yes, even from the banshee,

You're hidden safe in His arms.

-Irish Lullabies, CalebRyanWriter

It is a humble town in Ireland with people neither too rich nor poor. The buildings are modest, and bustle with life during the day. Life begins with the sun and ends with it. During the day, the children are a sight to see (for they alone can find joy in times of despair). The town brims with vibrant colours, but they fade away with the last colours of twilight. The bleeding red is the last colour to meet the common eye before darkness reigns across the skies. As the last streaks of violet and red fade away into the night, the town comes to a standstill. Shops are hastily shut. The children run home as though someone is pursuing them hot on their trails. The little pathways resound with the harsh bangs of shutting doors and windows. All talk within the house dies down into hushed whispers laden with fear.

It all began with the failing of the crops. Ever since, there has been little for the people to find and eat. A famine, they call it. Some believe it to be a curse that has befallen them. With starvation comes disease; each household has sunk into gloom. It has been many a month since those of age spent a peaceful night. The men can bring neither bread nor money back home while the women fear for their households. They start at the sounds of the smallest whimper and each tear must escape a stranglehold if they are to fall. The people are fearful of the legends that are said to come to life during such times. No one knows what these creatures look like in their true form- even if it were to appear as one of the living, they would stay hidden. Thus, a single unspoken rule is common knowledge even among young girls- crying has been forbidden in their household. She has seen her parent's fear. She has felt that which curtails her and so, as a dutiful daughter, she holds them back. Such is the fate that has befallen them- a fate in which they have no freedom even to cry. To them, what happens next is no mystery. It has happened a long time ago in old women's tales, but now they seem to be indisputably true. There has been talk of such happenings in other towns. Alas! they know that nothing would save them this time unless it be by the grace of God.

They are simple folk like you and I, but they have seen and heard of things unexplainable. What others call lore, they know to be the truth. What others call myth, they see as a living nightmare. They live two different lives- one during the day, and, for lack of better words, another at night. The smiles that lit their faces as they stood beneath the sun have long disappeared; they await her now. Long have they gone without a proper meal and they know that the time is near. They watch with bated breath, praying fervently that she will not come, but more so, that they will not be next.

The moon shines pale as the raindrops splatter on the cobblestones. It is dark. Darker than usual. The clouds often cover the sky like a thick blanket; a shadow looms over the land. Solitary lamps light up the little houses on either side. The rainwater flows down the pathways like little rivulets of silver; the moonlight glinting off them. There is not a single soul on the street. They are all safe within their houses, for it is said that strange things happen after sunset. There is a silence that shrouds the little town. A silence like no other; the entire town is holding its breath, knowing that the time for mourning is not too far away.

A lone figure walks down the empty path. She does not shield herself from the rain. She does not find the need to. She has no need to hide beneath a shelter- it makes no difference to her. She is a beauty. One can see it even with her face hidden. Her long red hair cascades down her back, straight and mighty as a waterfall. The light makes it gleam like freshly spilt blood on a sword. She has a petite form- small and innocent she seems to the world that remains ignorant of her presence. Her head bowed low, her face hidden away from plain sight, she walks alone with the shadows as her faithful companions. Her white gown trails behind her even as a pair of fair feet peek out from behind their veil. She steps lightly down the pathways, making no sound save for the small splash of the water. She glides like an angel, a picture of grace in the stunning moonlight, yet she goes unnoticed.

She has no name. She needs no name. She appears to be just another girl, but she knows that she is different. She possesses a skill which scared her once, but now, it only causes sorrow. She cannot fathom if it is a blessing or a curse, but it weighs heavily upon her. Some call her an angel. Others call her a monster, but she is both and neither. She is merely another being that walks amongst them. Unseen. Unheard. An ethereal glow surrounds her- a stark contrast to the dark mist that seems to swirl about her face and beneath her feet. She does not know where she goes- she allows her feet to lead her. Aimlessly, she wanders down the path with neither fear nor hope; her face a blank mask of acceptance.

She moves past one doorstep to another, yet not a single one is hers. Not a single one catches her attention. The light flicker of the lamps mean nothing to her. They are futile, as is all else. Finally, she comes to her destination. This house is no different from the others but soon, it will be. The laughter within its walls have long died away. After all, it is not easy to laugh when its people are all either starving or ill. A lone lamp stands there, and she knows that it will die out soon. Her heart fills with pity for what is to come, for both her fate and theirs, but it has been long since she learnt that there is nothing she can do. She simply stands next to the doorstep and wails.