Silvery Whispers - Part One

The moon peeked her head through a break in the thick ominous clouds to shine her silver light over the forested land below. For miles, the land lay in gently rolling hills covered in a mottled mixture of hardwoods and pines, glittering like so much tinsel and confetti in the night. Little hamlets and towns carved flat, shadowy circles in the virgin timber, causing it to look like a dog with a mild case of mange. Ribbons of dusty road sprang up and disappeared in the underbrush, connecting each village with the next, with the distant cities, and, ultimately, with a dark and shrouded land known as the Region of Vampires. Clouds as thick as thunderheads forever clung to the upper level of the Region, blocking out the light of the moon and the sun, but seldom dropping rain or filling the air with a humidity that brought forth the earthy fragrances of rotting vegetation. The forest beneath was overgrown with sickly flora, striving to grow ever taller and larger in order to grasp and hold the one sliver of light that might escape the stranglehold in the heavens. Though large and forbidding, the trees were slowly suffocating, casting their branches and leaves onto an already well-padded forest floor while all around the Region, as if to keep the inhabitants in and the travellers out, grew an impenetrable wall of long thorny brush.

In the outer ring of the Noble's land, near the edge, a young girl lay prostrate on her stomach while the wind blew softly through her short ebony hair and tickled her paper white cheek with a few loose strands. With her head resting on the backs of her palms, she looked out over the cliff at the dark world below and the occasional lamp that winked up at her through the trees. All the residents had returned home for the night and were either cleaning up the last of the supper dishes or were relaxing for the evening and indulging in restful hobbies.

From the shadows, the ditches, and the flora, the trill of the crickets and the chant of the peepers drifted up to her, accompanied by the hum of the bullfrogs. Somewhere far away a wolf sang a mournful aria. Moments later, his mate provided a descant. A flock of whippoorwills serenaded the countryside with a ballad and a pack of coyotes yodelled as they ran. A lone owl intoned a lilting base line, keeping the beat of the symphony and harmonising each individual voice.

There under the eerie cloud of the Region, no one sang.

Though her ruby eyes drank in the peaceful scene below and her ears consumed Nature's lullaby, there was turmoil in her head. The painful memory of a recent conversation with her sister and mother returned to haunt her.

"What is wrong with you? Why does the idea even begin to appal you? It is the natural way! It's what we do, what we have always done for centuries, what makes us who we are!"

"Darla, leave her be. She's young yet. She'll come around in a few days."

"Was I ever like that? Was I ever that disgustingly...soft-hearted?"

The girl cast a sad eye over the dark rooftops, looking for something to distract her. Every building, whether home or business, was constructed of the same materials as its neighbour. Thatch, bound together with ropes fashioned from straw or cloth, formed the leaky roofs. Rough-hewn logs cleared from the very area on which the building stood formed the drafty walls. Though some of the houses were larger than others and some reflected the individual creativity of its owner, three of the buildings stood out as grander than all the others. These three, the local convent, the orphanage, and a two-story residence, displayed the same thatch roofing. However, instead of wooden walls, they sported the grey stones and blue-green clay that were found in abundance in the graveyard.

Yet, as luxurious as these sturdy buildings might seem to their neighbours, they could not compare to the grandeur of her mother's house.

The memory of the conversation would not leave her as it played itself over and over in her head until she sighed in gloomy depression.

"Is that it, Darla?" she whispered to herself. "I'm going against the laws of nature? I'm disgustingly soft-hearted? Then so be it! Far be it for me to ever be so cruel! I won't! I won't!"

With a determined frown, the fourteen-year-old girl stood up and cast a final glance back at her mother's house hidden among the lofty poplars and oaks. Though modest in comparison to many of the dwellings in the Region, the brick walls and tiled roof were a strong contrast to the humble homes below. Even without the artistic lines and colours of the brick and the dormer windows peeking through the thickly woven ivy, the building would have been a mansion if it had been constructed in the little town of Kyrii.

With a heavy heart, she picked up her rough-leather travelling bag, bid her home a silent good-bye and carefully walked down the steep path, strewn with tiny pebbles.

At the edge of the forest, where the land levelled out and the brush grew especially thick, climbing up the trunks of the outer trees to touch the lower foliage and form an imposing wall, a short, thin oval of light hung over the path.

The girl brushed the vines and thorns aside with her bare arms, unmindful to the many tears and scratches that she received in protest.

Once free of the imprisoning brush, she stood tall and looked across the span of open field to the sleepy town before her. Where she was going or what she was going to do when she got there, she did not know. All she knew was that she must get to the town and seek whatever haven she could find from the Region. With purposeful steps, she walked down the overgrown path, enjoying the cool breeze that played with her hair and threatened to lift the edge of her skirt.

Finally, she reached the first building. Already, the occupants had gone to bed, leaving the shutters securely latched against the glassless windows. She placed her white hand on the splintered wood, noting how the rough texture tingled her palm as she ran it down the length of the building. Any slivers that dared imbed themselves in her skin would be ejected before she had a chance to truly realise they were there. Turning the corner, she came to the front of the building where, over the door in hand-carved letters, were the words, "Last-Stop General Store".

"So primitive," she whispered to herself. "So…barbaric!"

Beside the general store was a feed lot that boasted the best quality horse and cattle supplies. Then came a fabric store, a very small jewellery store, and a little sandwich shop. The rest of the buildings sat back a little ways from the dirt road to make room for the cracked sidewalk that tried its hardest to cling to the Golden Days when all its pieces were connected and chunks were not missing in various places. With a heavy sigh, the girl leaned against the corner of the buildings and slowly slid down until she was seated on the cold, damp concrete. She propped her arm on her raised knee and waited, but for what, she knew not.

After many long minutes, a shaky light began to travel down the road, accompanied by slow, steady footsteps. The girl groaned inwardly, wishing only to be left alone. She nearly stood to leave, but at the last second, decided to remain and see what would transpire.

Presently, the light stopped and a pair of very worn, leather shoes, covered in dust, pointed toward her.

"Child, are you alright?" a soft voice inquired.

The girl looked up into the nun's hooded face, ghastly lit by a lantern that was blackened with years of use. Around her neck hung a small silver crucifix and in her left hand she held a leather-bound Bible. The girl dropped her gaze and leaned further into the corner of the damp wall, not saying anything.

The woman stood still, perplexed. After a moment's consideration, she knelt down beside the girl and, setting the lantern on the packed dirt, she extended her hand as an offering of assistance. The girl stared at the gloved hand until it became necessary for her to make some sort of response. Then she pulled her knees up under her chin and gazed down the long broken sidewalk.

"Are you lost?" the nun asked, in a quiet tone.

After a long moment, the girl merely shrugged her bare shoulders.

"Well…"

"Leave me, please," the youth pleaded, her voice betraying the fear within.

The woman frowned. Her foundling wore only a black sleeveless top, which barely met the waistline of an airy miniskirt. The chilly night air fluttered the girl's short black hair before it whipped around her naked arms to her bare legs and teased the loops of her shoelaces.

"But I can't leave you here," the nun finally objected. "It's just not right. No woman should leave a young girl in the street at night."

The youth looked up with offended pride in her eyes and a demeaning sneer on her lips. "And pray, where do you propose to take me?"

Startled at how quickly the former hints of helplessness and loneliness transformed into cold arrogance, the nun drew her hand back and settled a little more firmly on her heels. "Is there some place that you would like to go?" she asked, testily.

In reply, the girl dropped her brave front and turned her face to the dark wooden wall, attempting to shut out the world around her. A gentle hand rested on her shoulder only to fly away when she flinched sharply. She hoped the lantern would rise with a muffled scrape on the sandy road, but it's light shown steadily, the oily smoke continued to tickle her nose, and the woman's even breathing never changed. The leather shoes never stirred and the hem of the black habit remained just inside her field of vision.

Then the soft voice spoke again. "I can take you to my house, if there is nowhere else you want to go."

The girl looked up in surprise and began to laugh a sinister, hollow laugh. "You would do that?" she asked, raising a haughty eyebrow.

"Maybe."

The youthful chin lowered and vicious red eyes peered up at her from beneath dark brows. "Madáme," the child began in a cold tone, "pardon me for saying, but you are a fool!"