Tears Unnumbered [EDITING]

Immortal [BONUS]

The night is young. The clouds are dark and heavy, looking like large fluffs of cotton brutally ripped apart- just like her heart. The sky is black as it stands with her in solidarity- mourning. The Thames gurgles beside her, looking like it could have sprung forth from her tears, yet she knows it is not true. She promised that she would not cry for him. Aodhán was right. London is a far cry from the Irish village. It's so different, and perhaps that is what they want. The city bustles with life even after sunset, oblivious to the new visitor. The lights all around her light the path with a fiery glow. The people on the street walk hand in hand, their faces glowing with a cheer that she does not feel. How can she rejoice when everyone and everything reminds her of them? They were far too young, Aoife more so than Nolan. One was like her ward, and the other, her friend. Their losses are irreplaceable.

The music in the wind reminds her of the way his voice lilted in the winter breeze. The colours in the city- the blues, reds, and all hues between- remind her of the pictures that his words painted. The clock that chimes every hour reminds her that it is always ticking. It didn't wait for Aoife; it didn't wait for him, and it would not wait for Aodhán or her brother Liam either.

Is this what people feel like after she cries at their doorsteps? This feeling shatters her like glass- into a million shards that can never be put together. The cobblestones are wet and slippery, reminding her of the way their lives just slipped through her fingers. Especially Nolan's. She had put the vision down to her longing to talk to him and it has cost her heavily. The feeling of the cold railing against her palm reminds her of his frosty glare after she revealed herself to him.

She looks down into the clear waters of the river, looking for the reflection she knows she will never see- the reflection of a girl with hair that gleams in the moonlight like blood spilt upon a naked blade, eyes bloodshot and stained red from her endless crying, and skin as pale as the dead of whom she is one. Her dress, white as the moon, flutters in the breeze as she gazes longingly at the home she knows to be Aodhán's.

She can see them in the distance- Aodhán, her brother, and Alma. She longs to talk to her brother, yet she dare not do so, knowing that neither of them can bear another parting. She only hopes that his daughter's death has not pushed him over the brink of insanity. She never asked around to find out.

She now watches as they all look to the moon in remembrance of those they have lost, just the way she does every night. She watches as Aodhán's eyes skim the vicinity, hoping he will find the one other person who would share with him the memories of the kind lad and the precious little girl. He has told her she would be welcome should she ever need someone to talk to. She has told him the same, but it is better this way.

She knows he will call for her if he ever needs her, and till then, she will be content to watch them from afar. It is the only testimony to the fact that the one deemed a monster by the society has feelings that run deeper than any of the living and that she wants to live in those memories as much as they do. None realize that she alone bears the burden of staying away and watching from afar- watching as loved ones grow and die as time weathers away their memories. She alone bears the burden of watching that which she can never attain for eternity.

Without a sound, she turns around and walks away, leaving no trace of her existence. She knows that she will soon return to the land she belongs to, but she will not go alone anymore. The memories are etched deeply in her heart. She will never forget them, just as they will never forget her. Not even death can do them apart, for they live in her. They are immortal in the memory of Bláthnaid, the banshee.