Young Writers Society

A shudder runs through me. I roll over. My eyes look through the sky glass, staring at the blue sky above. “Think through it slowly, Nightingale. Just figure it out piece by piece. Sort it out, make it make sense. Do what you can.”

She is getting closer.

“She has been getting closer for a while now. It isn’t a big deal. You can deal with it.”

I’m losing my grip on reality. The call is growing stronger every night.

“You are letting go, not losing it. You can grab hold again if you want too.”

I only “want too” during the day. At night… when the call begins again… I can’t hold on anymore. I’m going to cross. Maybe not tonight, maybe not this year. But I can’t hold out forever.

“Is there anything you can do to stop yourself?” I ask the question despite knowing the answer.

No. You know that. Nothing but sheer force will stop me.

“What will stop you? Is there anyone that can stop you?”

His name swirls up before my mind, rising on powerful wings that ride the wind. The Hawk. Peregrine, he will help if I ask. He helps everyone. I can ask him to watch me when there is a full moon out.

“Inappropriate,” I condemn the thought, trusting away the drop of hope. “He would do it, but I’m not asking that of him.”

I have no right to ask such a thing of him. It would put everything he has on the line. How would I do it? Have him sleep on the floor outside my door and make sure I don’t try to leave in the middle of the night? He would be publicly humiliated once it got out. His parents would most likely throw him out of the house, no one would speak to him. Except for me. But nobody cares about me. Mom and Dad love me, I think. And avoid me. Love and fear me.

I sit up, slapping my hand against the wood. “At least it is half love, Nightingale. Be grateful. It could be all hate.”

Time stretches on. I don’t move. Still in the same position, sitting and staring at the wall. Time has no meaning for me. Nothing has any meaning but the voices in my heart. Even now, in broad daylight, I can hear them. Calling to me. Begging me to come to them.

Don’t be frightened, I also can sing, Nightingale. Don’t run from what you are. Come to me. Let us sing in harmony.

Gritting my teeth, I shove her away. “No. Leave me alone.”

She fights against my push, shoving her cold mind against my soul. A flicker of malice runs from her heart to mine, curling through my being. I throw myself against her.

“No! You can’t have me,” I spit the words out, wanting to rub them in her dark face. Her eyes stare at me from within. Full of mocking amusement, they watch me. “Go away and let me be!”

With one last glint of venom, she melts away. The emptiness flows back to take her place.

Crumpling to the floor, I close my eyes. The sun shines through the window above my head. It’s warmth creeps into my skin, banishing all thought of the cold. I stay there. It will come. But until then, I might as well not move.

A flame licks my fingertips. It sears the skin, biting deep into flesh. Gritting my teeth, I don’t move, not even opening my eyes. “No. Give me more.”

The fire moves up, consuming more. My hand goes deep into the warm agony. I hold my ground. It creeps forward. My wrist goes, then the elbow. The consuming tongue tastes my arm, taking hold of the skin and pulling itself higher.

The pain builds. Fighting for silence, I hold my ground. My face stays still. I don’t let the emotions show the fear of the light that pours down upon me. Drop adds to drop, increasing quickly. Enough.

I roll over, retreating from the devouring light. Gaze lifts up and then shys away from the source of my pain. She smiles down. A blessing for most, a curse for me. The sun shedding it’s light on humanity.

Sitting up, I raise my arm. White skin stares back at me. A marble slab. Unblemished. No lines, no scars. The scars disappear. And the sun can leave no mark on me. But it brings pain. Unbearable agony. So I shroud myself. Cloaked, hood hiding my face.

I lower my arms. Black eyes turn to the ceiling. A sheen covers them, moisture staining my cheeks. Why was I chosen for this fate? There are many others that could have been cursed. But I was cursed. Nothing can save me, I cannot live a normal life. I am a burden. To my parents and the rest of the village.

“Nobody wants you, Nightingale.” the words slip out, sliding easily between attempts to drive them back. “You are a creature of the night, shunning light and the companionship of others. Who would want you?”

Silence falls. I let it come, welcoming it as a old friend. It’s gentle touch soothes my unruly passions. Slowly, it draws it’s cold finger across my soul. The emotion retreat. Falling back, they take refuge in their old hiding spot. Deep down, so deep I cannot find it, somewhere nobody knows.

Closing my eyes, I nestle against the quiet. It presses back, smiling sweetly. Rest, don’t worry for the future. It can take care of itself. Rest for now. Until your next task.

Life falls away. Peregrine, his kind smile, it disappears. My parent’s faces fade beyond recall. But silence is there. Close beside me. Loving me as only silence can.

There is no singing. Amber Shanndrae’s voice does not raise in seductive song. Silence reins. And I sleep, safe in it’s embrace. Nothing can harm me here. She cannot sing with him guarding my bedside.