A Night At The Gala

Part 11: Complete

I've always been in silence,
The world around me loud.

I've always been in black and white,
The world around me colored.

I've always dreamt I'd find love,
The people around me filled.

I've always wanted to be held,
The people around me distant.

I've always needed someone,
I've always been alone.

I've always wanted them,
And now I feel I'm finally home.

A low tone rings in her ears and calls her softly to wake. It's been so long since she's felt the tiny waves breech her. She wants to open her eyes to see what is around her, but her body is stilled. She faintly remembers what it was like. Her mind never so sure as she's aged. The world had always scared her with exclusion and discord- that now she isn't so sure she wants to be apart of it. However, the low tones prick her once more and the slightest movements rouse her. It's weird. The ringing. The vibrant birth of it. The outward feeling of soft, silky skin swiftly sliding slowly across hers. It brings in the mindset of warmth and the hope of lingering compassion.

"I...er...fam...po..wei..ha.." It tickles her like a feather under her nose or touching her toes. Foreign ringing. Little pings, pricking pointed prickles puncturing her ears and tickling her insides. "Sh...re...kai..go..."

Eyes slowly fluttering frustratedly fast and franticly- she tries to open them, but the low tones scare her. Nightmares. Toned tunes timidly touching her ticklish temples, cheeks and ears- can't rouse herself- not yet. Yet in waiting, she wonders willfully while wanting nothing more than to know what it is. These images popping, perplexing, pinching, and powdering her mind with something that isn't her own memories. Yet she knows them. The low tones breeching her. Somehow, she knows them. She's felt them before, but they were louder- vibrantly vibrating viciously through her. Then in an instant, an impish, imagined ignited flame flourishes furiously through her body willing her to wake. The world around her goes from black to gray to slightly colored, but fuzzy. Her eyes blind her to a bright reality while the buzzing low tones tickle her intently. A familiar face comes into view as she slightly turns her head. The brown sugared fingers of the woman gingerly push back some of her mane. The memory of this woman slowly comes back- her mother. However, the low tones grasp at her and dig into her mind.

"Ka..s...wa...he...se..op.." She can make out some of the low tones tickling her. The meaning of them lost though. Then she hears her loud and clear. "Darling! You're awake! How are you feeling?"

"Foggy...what is that ringing?" Her fingers flutter fast, curiously conversing her concern. Her mother looks towards the old man and her dad. His mouth covered slightly by a mustache and his fingers wagging incoherently.

"Sh...ma..lo..he...ka..me...ba..." The old man leaves hurriedly and she watches as her mom and dad step closer. Looking at her mom, she expects and answer, but instead her father speaks to her. It's only the second or third time he has said anything to her.

"Sweetie, what ringing?"

"You speak now, too?"

"I'm still learning. What ringing?" Her eyes catch her mother moving her lips as she looks at her father.

"Sh...mi..he...som...so...or..ma..i..is..a...ne..be..ch..." She watches between them. They're silent, but the tones move inward to her mind. "I...do...k..ll..pa..ma..."