Minus the Darkness

 

‘Tis vanishing is what they called it, that period in time when a Spiryt becomes what it is, a spirit, doomed to walk the earth until the sun swallows it whole. But then it is unknown if they still walk among those flames.

            The Spiryt dies, but never is marred by decay. Some would say that Eva Perón is a Spiryt stopped in her tracks. She remains spotless in her tomb, glycerin running through her lifeless veins. She ended by dying. Spiryts don’t end. Everything material vanishes when the Spiryt wakes up, dead yet so alive. ‘Tis vanishing.

            People say they see ghosts all the time when, of course, they don’t. Those images, gestures, feelings are just signals perceived and interpreted incorrectly by the mind. It is simply excess energy when the soul leaves the body. Certainly not a ghost, the common name for Spiryts. A Spiryt does not have a soul. ‘Lost souls’ aren’t even souls at all.

           

            Saya was laying in a plush bed. The maroon coverlet was wrinkled underneath her sore body, the maroon pillows were tossed about around her. The pillows had ornate gold beading on them and left miniscule markings on her arm as she let go of the pillow she had been clinging to unconsciously.

            The room was small, dark, and seemingly foreboding if one did not know of the comfort of the child-size bed in the middle of the room. Small, framed paintings of black roses hung duly across the dark walls. Black vases containing blue roses, arranged beautifully with a black rose poised perfectly in the center, were scattered throughout the plentiful surfaces available in the room. A huge wooden chest of drawers sat near the rather large wooden door. It was painfully geometric and plain, certainly able to fulfill its purpose, without all of the frills of conventional Victorian bureau. A tall, plain, antiquated bookcase towered above the plain yet spacious room. It was filled with rather heavy hardback books, mostly encyclopedias and books on the ocean. A small stack of thin books graced the lower right hand corner of the bookcase, a dried tulip settled in the thick layer of dust. The doors were slightly open on the armoire against an otherwise blank wall. A sour odor drifted from the inside of the armoire. What it contained must’ve been long untouched by human hands, picked at by the odd mouse.

            “How on earth?” Saya thought aloud. No way her dreams could fluctuate so much and still be just as memorable as her last meal.

 

            The air was chill and his sweatshirt wasn’t blocking the wind, wasn’t keeping the air from moving under his clothes. He shivered as he watched intently from atop his tree.

            This tree had been here since the dawn of this age, when the stones were set up in a ring around the seed for the first time. His parents met under this tree, married under this tree, and died under this tree. His parents ended at dying, taken by the runaway horse frothing at the mouth, red in the eye.

            Kai’s eyes stung as the girl he was watching read silently under the tree. He squinted. What were the words typed there on the page? What secrets was she learning from among the leaves of that book while he was perched among the leaves of that tree? He leaned in closer, placing one hand on a lower branch. The branch was somewhat thin and knobby and slighted a bit when his weight shifted.

            Kai froze. The girl looked up into the mass of leaves concealing the boy’s face. Dead leaves showered her. Kai saw her eyes this time. They were big, the size of the largest marble in his old collection. They were a deep shade of emerald and they showed him the secrets she wished to learn. They were sad though, even as the corners of her mouth curved beautifully into a smile. She was in awe of the falling leaves. The smile faded and her eyes still wore the same expression. “Wind,” she muttered as she turned back to her book as a tear from Kai’s stinging eyes fell.

            Kai didn’t wait for the single tear to strike it’s imminent destination. He took off, fleeing to another tree, clawing at his eyes to make them stop betraying his presence. He ran his tongue along the bottom edges of his front teeth. “Kai,” he whispered. The wind breezed through, rustling crackling leaves. The girl’s hand slightly twitched. Again, his name had been heard.

 

            Saya’s heart was pounding. What is this place? What is this room? Her eyes jerked back and forth across the room. The bedside table was small and upon it laid a pair of broken spectacles. Her slender finger closed themselves around the wiry frame. She curiously examined them for a short period of time, became disinterested, and set them back down. How did she get here? Those glasses wouldn’t be able to tell her.

            She was no longer clothes in the dull hospital gown. An ethereal nightdress hung from her spindly shoulders. It was of a deep shade of blue and fabric was light and airy. As Saya still lounged on this unfamiliar bed, she played with the hem and looked around a bit more.

            The bed on which she laid was at an angle from the corner of the room, as was the bedside table. There was a lot of floor space in this small room, yet a layer of dust coated the hardwood floor, undisturbed by any foot.

            She flipped over onto her stomach to see what was behind the angled bed. As she leaned over the head of the bed, a draft shook the room.

            “Awfully curious you are,” a deep voice rumbled through the room. A quick gasp and a jerk of the head revealed a dark figure, size daunting, standing at the end of the bed. He had dark skin, a dark shaved head, and grey eyes. “And an awfully pretty nightgown you have there. You dream it up yourself?”

Author's Note

Didn't do the usual editing. :

Reviews

[Adventerous Amy]

nice i hope the next ones will be better!