This week I decided to do something a bit different and show a side of my writing that I don't usually write. Writing that's not really contemporary, and not really dystopian - my two main genres - but was just... for fun.
Actually, I'm doing a contest/challenge with some other writer friends and one of them supplied the song for this little piece of flash fiction.
It's opera, which I don't usually listen to, and was... very inspiring.
Actually, songs are usually what inspire me to write. I have whole playlists for different books and writing projects, and certain songs that make me think of specific scenes or that motivated me to get down a lot of words. For Dyed Blue I listened to the Divergent soundtrack SO so much, and for Wrapped my most recent work in progress, I've been listening to some different pop songs.
Songs are powerful. The lyrics get in your head and worship songs can completely change your perspective and attitude.
So, here's a little piece of writing that was inspired by an opera song! I wrote it late at night, and it's a bit weird because part of the challenge was we had to write something not in our normal genre - something that pushed us out of our comfort zone a little.
That said, I don't usually write stuff like this, but it was fun to write and made me that much more excited to get back to my normal writing!
Sure On This Shining Night
My fingers run along the gilded coldness of gold that suffocates every surface of the room as my leaden feet step forward. Gold, but gray. Gilded, but smoky. Suffocating… and deadly. I take another step, quicker now, desperate for relief from the heavy weight of darkness clawing at my skin. My insides pulling me toward the generous quiet of the cloudy night sky.
And yet when I step out onto the balcony, leaving the ghostly opera behind me and the white masks of haunted faces, the sky, in its dark glower and phantom-like howling is no reprieve.
A small sigh slips from my crudely dark lips, and my bone-white hands skimming across the railing tremble slightly. To be queen of a dead empire—what an honor, I think wryly, letting my lips curl in a cold sliver of a smile. The grayish whiteness of night phantoms whisper around me, curling in strands of ice around my fingers that itch to feel something alive.
But at the same time, the coldness, the death and decay and bone-white desolation of an endless night is a relief. No feeling. No tears. No screams.
Just death.
The death of a night too far gone and a hope long left in the past, because no one has ever come running after me. No one has ever come looking for me, seeking me out. The ghosts and the pain and the memories—they’re all that’s left.
I turn slightly, but close my eyes before I can see my reflection in the cold mirror-like gray gold of the palace wall. I know what I’ll see. Bony face and sunken cheeks, devoid of life and laughter. White hair that used to be so vibrantly red curling around my gray face. Gnarled hands and the black dress of death hanging from my frame.
And my eyes, staring back at me, milky white and so. Far. Gone.
“Adirem.”
My eyes snap open at the breathy whisper of my little ghost bird, Pearl, and her reverent utterance of my title. Adirem, the queen of everything haunted. Ruling over a city of hollow people because my heart was carved out by the man I gave it to.
“Yes, Pearl?” I ask softly.
She tilts her white head at me. “He’s here again.”
My chest heaves in a long breath. A breath of pain and ache and ruin. And for a split second, I let my eyes close again, remembering that soft little girl I used to be. Remember the man I loved and cherished and lived for—the laughter in my chest and our love that was so alive.
The terrible thing about this palace of death is I remember everything and can. Do. Nothing.
When I open my eyes again, I’m not the little girl that gave him a soft smile and bid him goodbye. I’m the queen. The queen he made me. The queen he left me to be and never came back for, until it was too late.
“Show him in,” I breathe, and as she leaves, I watch my reflection. Watch it shift and slip into the beauty that still clings to my heart, even the cracked pieces. The fire-like red hair and heart-shaped face and dark, black lips. My hands are strong again and smooth and I am beautiful—a spot of color in the whiteness of a palace of ghosts. A flame in the midst of ashes. A rudy red cherry in the middle of gray, dirty snow.
But, I never could figure out how to change the eyes. They’re still white. They’re still full of ghosts. When I see him, it’s like my heart is full of ghosts too—ghosts gasping for breath, clawing for life. Screaming for love again.
My guards force him to his knees, but I wave them off, watching him. He never meets my eyes, but I always watch his. They’re still bright. Still alive. He hasn’t changed.
“Ella—”
“No,” I say, emotion dead in my feather-like voice. “No, not Ella anymore. Ella died, Prince. It’s Adirem, and you are no one to me.”
He swallows, as if my words pain him. As if he doesn’t know his mere presence is driving a knife through my shoulder blades. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and I’m already shaking my head.
I take a step forward, and then kneel in front of him. “You don’t get to be sorry.”
“I tried to save you—”
“No,” I hiss, cutting off his choked whisper. Hate curls in my words, and I reach out a hand, grabbing his chin and forcing his eyes to meet my milky ones. “I’m not yours to save anymore. That was your job and you. Failed.” My voice drops into barely a whisper, something dead itself. “Because you can’t save me from yourself.”
“Ella, please,” he pleads, eyes searching mine. Looking for something alive. Something… that he won’t find.
“Take him away,” I say coldly, standing. “Oh, and Prince, don’t come back.” I meet his eyes for the last time as my guards step toward him, preparing to drag him away. “Death has a way of grabbing a hold of you… and never letting go.”
“What if I could save you!” he cries desperately as hands wrap around his arms and start dragging him across the deathly cold gray marble. “What if I could go back and save you!”
My lips tick upward into a smile, and I cock my head at him. “What if… I don’t want to be saved? What if I don’t want to be saved by you?”
He flinches, my words like a cruel slap in the face. But at least, they’re not a knife, digging into his back. Killing him. Betraying him. Destroying him… forever.
At least he’s still alive, and not a ghost merely left behind on this silent, shining night of haunted death.
Loving The People God Has Placed Around Us
So, that's what that song sparked from my crazy mind (which you can listen to here). It was really fun to write something a little weird and just for fun, even though it is nothing like the cute contemporary story I'm currently writing haha
It's kinda fun to see what God leads me to write about, and what different people write and how it affects and impacts their audience. God has gifted so many people in so many different ways, and what a beautiful blessing that we aren't all the same.
I hope that as we go throughout our weeks we would thank God for the people He has placed around us - the people of all shapes and sizes and minds and hearts - and remember that each and every person is crafted in His image.
Let's love the people around us and glorify Him through that. Let's use every word we write or say or think to worship Him and bring honor to His name.
Because whether you're writing or reading or doing school or working, it's all for Him. And in everything we do we can love His children that He has placed around us.