Writer Games | Masquerade of Martyrs & Family Ties

Task Seven: Songs For A Better World /SF - Hester Irving

Faint music trickled  through the haze she felt, dim memories of pain and fighting slowly  fading as she felt grass tickle her back. The pungent smell of familiar  coal mixed with the fragrance of the pine trees boded safety and Hester  felt herself rousing, limbs free to move about as she rolled herself off  the ground. Overalls, torn, as though her mother had not yet patched  them up. Dirt scattered in her tousled hair as though she had fallen  from the tree, and the scene around her seemed familiar as she stood up.  A hand to her eyes, she watched the blue sky overtop the fence, the  clouds that were barely visible over the size of the trees that held  squirrels and songbirds.

The clock tower-the  decrepit one that stood idly just past the Justice Building-rang to  indicate one in the afternoon. Hester averted her gaze and looked  towards the District, where families enjoyed the company of each other  on a Sunday afternoon. Pouting her lips and giving a brush to her  clothing, she walked the familiar steps back into town, the gravel  underneath her coal-lined shoes crunching as she strolled with careless  leisure. Isaac, two years her junior, was off at his friend's Lionel's  house, and Hester revelled in the fact that he would not be there to  chase her around begging to play with him when she got home.

She turned onto the  broken pavement that led to her home, other houses lining the street.  They stared at her as though they held secrets she would never know,  haunting her as she passed them. Her mother would be home, and Hester  wondered vaguely if Mauve would be out trading for something nice  tonight. Hopefully, she thought, there would be something other than the  soup they'd had for the last week. A slight breeze blew summer wind  onto her face, and she closed her eyes, savouring the peacefulness that  the neighbourhood gave her. There was no pain, only safety and family,  and the revelation gave her great joy, as though nothing could come  between her quiet life and the harsh reality of the outside world.

The door to the home was  slightly open, the frayed screen opening and closing with the wind,  flapping like the broken wings of a bird. Hester approached the house,  walking beneath the sparse tree that bore no fruit through the seasons,  her eye spotting a flicker of a grey cat underneath the garden that  lined the home. With her tongue between her teeth, the young girl slowly  walked towards the home, only to stop underneath the window, the cat  gone. Sitting down in the dirt, Hester rested her head along the grimed  sideboards of the house, her eyes closing until she heard the familiar  trickle of noise from inside.

Her bright eyes slowly  peered overtop the windowsill, the window open to let in the breeze, but  in reality only let in more coal dust. Picture frames full of shattered  coverings and aged photos obscured her view of the living room, the  fireplace which wasn't lit stood lopsided between her vision. The music,  melodic and sad, came slowly outside, the old radio used for Capitol  broadcasts turning out an old tape found somewhere deep in the attic.  Hester wondered why her mother would be listening to such a sad song  alone, until the figures of two people obscured her vision and her face  lit up with a childish glee.

In the middle of the  room, locked in an embrace, stood her parents. Her father, who had  barely been home from the mines in what seemed like years, danced with  her mother, tears streaking the woman's face as they moved along to the  melody, swaying back and forth as though this was both the last and  first time they had hugged. Hester's dishevelled hair popped up further  to get a better glance, until she scampered through the rickety front  door, meeting the sight of one of the most simplistic beauties of the  world: love. Hester was noticed a moment later, only to be swept up in  her father's arms to be danced with, giggles cascading from her mouth  that forgave his long absence. Laughter filled the tired home, a welcome  feeling that her mother embraced with teary eyes and choked laughter as  her father danced once more with her mother, just like their wedding  day so many years ago.

The music came in waves,  as though it meant to say that maybe this time her father would stay,  that this happiness would continue. Hester didn't want to let go of the  hands that swung her and dipped her with glee, the hands that held years  of coal dust and the frail hands of a mother's touch. Fragments of  smiles and a hearty laugh filled her mind as around she went, dizzy with  happiness. So sweet was the sound of the music that Hester felt like  everything here was meant to be.

It was the joy  experienced by the dance that made Hester forget about the trials of her  life, as though this moment, frozen in time, was what life could have  been. Could have been, that is, if Hester didn't feel herself slowly  falling away from the protective arms that embraced her, the music  slowly distorting until she was begging it not to go. Her father slowly  danced with her mother again, as though it was love rekindled after a  blazing fire that took Hester away. The scene, Hester thought, never did  include her, and the pain in her body slowly came back and she slowly  fell to the depths of death once more, falling, falling, falling. The  dancing, in reality, had happened after Hester had left. Trials often  made people realize what they had was only temporary. For Hester, it was  the happiness that was temporary, a slim taste of what was peace and  joy that was so quickly snatched away again. She fell on the ground,  broken again as her limbs scattered and her head fell back onto the  dirt. Happiness, after all, was only temporary in a game of life or  death.