The rain poured down from the low, billowing clouds, pattering on the glass windows and sliding down, making tiny, transient trails on the panes. Beyond that haze of water the drowned trees in the park put up a vain fight, their leaves dripping the gloom. A handful of weak strains of sunlight filtered through the grey overcast, illuminating the bedraggled flowers and making faint patterns on the floor. The girl sitting by the window and staring out of it - me - watched the rain. It was soothing, in its own way. Simple, calm, uncomplicated. Well, she knew that it was actually much more complicated than it appeared, given all the science involved, but it still had a restful influence on her due to its apparently simplicity.
Sighing heavily, the girl turned away from the window and its allure and faced the rows and rows of books. These were almost as reassuring in their own way. Here she could hide, here she could disappear into a book, disappear into the multitudes of people, disappear from this world and all that was tied to it.
It was nothing, compared to what others in the world went though, but it was huge to her, and that's what mattered.
She just wanted to go home, to be close to her friends, to make that horrible, awful, loneliness go away, but at the same time, she just wanted to hide away from everyone and mull through her feelings alone. She didn't know what she wanted. I don't know what I want. It's all so complicated.
But it's not something that I can put down here. It's strange, and complicated, and unbelievable in parts, and so terrifyingly mundane in others. No one would ever believe me if I told them. I'm not sure I believe it all, myself.
The girl sighed again, wrapping her arms around herself, goose bumps rising because of the cold, or because of her thoughts, or because of something else altogether. She stared sightlessly for a long, silent moment before a flicker of her eyes betrayed her consciousness returning to here and now. Another sigh accompanied her rising to her feet and surveying the room.
Master of all I survey, she thought, not without a quiet bitterness. A few steps brought her to a shelf and she pulled out a thick, leather-bound book. Gold lettering spidered across the front and spine, spelling out a title and author she didn't pause to decipher. Cradling the book in one arm, she flipped through it, pausing at a handful of pages and reading a few lines before moving on.
"The king bent over his daughter, tears glinting like diamonds in the sunlight. 'Avianna,' he said softly, 'You don't have to do this, you know.' She shook her head. 'I do, Father.'"
"The wind roared around the tower, whipping her robes wildly. She needed this storm, needed its power. With this, she could do as she had promised, long ago."
"The knife's slow descent was painted silver in Avianna's vision, and time seemed to slow down to a near stop as she watched it fall, fall, fall..."
"The prince was a strapping young lad, closely related to the one who climbed up the beanstalk and fell in love with a problem much too big for him. This lad, however, was more sensible than his brother, and knew better than to fall in love with the princess. At least, that would be hoped."
"Not all turned out as expected, though. Fairy tale endings are rarely as they are portrayed in the tales. The prince and princess don't always live happily ever after and rule justly over fair lands. Evil is not always vanquished by good, and not even good and evil are clear-cut. The story after, not what comes before, is what is worth telling."
Blinking, the girl closed the book and rested her hand on the dark cover, thinking. The words had some significance, she was sure. This place, the Gift, even the book itself assured that. But she could not understand what, not yet, not here, not like this.
Replacing the book on the shelf beside its companions, the girl took a deep breath, steeling herself for something. Deliberately lowering her arms to her sides and squaring her shoulders, she faced the door, that great arching enemy that led to the outside world. For a moment she stood there, poised, ready, confident, and then -
With a weak whimper, she crumpled, landing in a heap on the warm floor. A tear trickled down her face, glittering like the one she had read about, before falling and dampening a spot on the floor. Another followed, and another, and she buried her head in her arms, muffling her quiet sobs. A few words straggled out, incomprehensible. An apology, a cry for forgiveness, a curse; it was impossible to say.
Given a few moments, which she was, her tears stopped and she composed herself again. Pushing herself to her feet, she tried again. A hand run down the spine of the book granted a bit of additional reassurance, and she squared her shoulders again, forcing herself to confidence, to calm, to assertiveness.
Taking a deep breath, and ignoring the quaver therein, she took a step forward. Another step. And another. Nothing happened, just as was supposed to happen.
With slow, deliberate steps, she advanced on the exit. A dry mouth and a surreptitious licking of her lips as the only betrayals of her tumultuous emotions, she walked, head high, out of the sanctuary.
August 9, 2005
Words: 925
Thoughts: I wrote this one evening when I was feeling quite odd. I rather like it, for all it's complete stream-of-consciousness.