Silent Sorrow
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- Parts 2
Tagsfantasy
My face against the window pane... I never though it'd be this way. Ever since my mother, Mary Nickolson, died nine months ago in a horrible car accident, my dad and I, we have been greiving. We decieded to get a new house because the memories of my mother were engraved into that house. It was too much for me to handle. Dad bought a pretty white two story house with a balcony. The house was about eight miles from nowhere. The view was so beautiful sunflowers and trees as far as I could see. When we first moved I would run upstairs to the balcony and just sit there and think. It was an amazing house. I loved it. Well, I did up untill the Carloes moved into the single story house across the street.
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It is the autumn equinox, or the death day, the time to contact those that have gone before. Everyone closes their eyes and are silent to commune with the spirits. I had never tried to contact spirits before. But this year I seek my mother. She died this day, fourteen years ago; my birthday. My position in the ceremony is shadow maker. This is a role that I have played since I was old enough to carry the marker staff. It is a rod the length of my forearm tapered at the lower end and holding a clear stone at the top. I hold it high in the air waiting. It catches the light, and its shadow forms an eye directly in the middle of the equinox stones. Spirits surround me. They stop and nod, or at least make eye contact before moving on. "Mother?" She could be an older version of myself. She smiles at me, then, fades as an old presence joins me. This spirit isn't just old; it's ancient. It exudes wisdom and understanding, peace and culture. We celebrate, together, to the music of creation. I seem to know the dance but not as well as she. We are alone only briefly before being joined by another. They dance as if they know each other's every move. I try to keep up. When I falter, they smile, laugh and show me how. There is no passage of time. We dance together for an instant and forever. I shouldn't, but I open my eyes. My shadow, marking the equinox, isn't a shadow, it is a shimmering swirl of blended light. The stone in the top of my staff is flicking with a brilliant white accented by scintillating bands of many colours. I quickly close my eyes but the ancients are gone. We all open our eyes. My shadow falls through the standing stones as it should. And it is black, also, as it should be. They had danced with me.
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