Dark and Cold, Rainy and Windy - Chapter 1

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Dark and Cold, Rainy and Windy

by Cursed Demoness

Libraries: Angst, Drabbles, Blurbs, Free Writes, Drama, One Shots, Original Fiction, Philosophical

Published on / 1 Chapter(s) / 0 Review(s)

Updated on

Just something I decided to do on the spurr of the moment. Usually my S.O.T.M.'s turn out pretty good, and I kinda like how this one came out.

It was dark and rainy on the day my mother was buried. Dark and cold, rainy and windy.

It was almost like even the skies were weeping, like the very earth was mourning the loss of this great woman.

But that is only wishful, perhaps even vain thinking. The earth is mightier than the Demons and Humans combined. There is no reason for the earth to weep over the loss of one woman.

There was a long line of people behind me as I led the way to my mother's final resting place, marked not with a statue but a simple tombstone, the kind little children draw when they draw graveyards. Just a simple stone curve jutting up from the earth.

Where my mother was to be buried was the sixth row from the front of the graveyard, at the left end of the row. A large hole was there, and her casket lay at the bottom of the hole, black and soaked with rainwater. On the lid of the casket were the words, ?Rest In Peace?. It was so cruel I almost yowled in fury. All of the other funerals I could remember had poems written on the casket lids, yet my mother only had three simple words? It was unbearable.

The ceremony required that each villager place a rose on top of the casket; the rose had to symbolize what the person had felt most for my mother.

White for compassion, red for love, yellow for happiness, blue for sadness, pink for memories never forgotten, and black... well, black was if you thought the person was a traitor, or if you didn't know the person.

Five people had black roses; because The Traitor, Rantu'ono, was her brother, people had almost thought she was a traitor. The five with black roses were people who'd never met my mother, but it still made my blood boil to see blackness here.

My own rose was deep crimson; I'd insisted on buying the darkest shade of red that I could find, to emphasize my love for the great woman who bore me. When I had gently placed the rose on her casket, I stood back and whispered, ?Please don't leave me.? Then, unable to control myself, I fled from the graveyard, away from the people who truly knew nothing of my golden mother.

It's dark and rainy today, too, nearly nine years from that day. Dark and cold, rainy and windy.

And I'm standing at my mother's grave again, looking down at the place where the hole once was.

Was her life really only to come to this? Was her entire reason for life simply to die a hero? Or did she go before her time, simply because that's the way things worked out?

I suppose from the start, Mother and Rantu'ono had led very different lives, even though they were identical twins. Rantu'ono had always loved the thrill of battle; my mother had always preferred to help people whenever and wherever she could. Perhaps that's why it never seemed like they got along very well; maybe their views and beliefs were just too different.

The Elders of the village say that Rantu'ono had been stubborn and bold since he could crawl, while my mother had been gentle and kind from the time she could talk. They also say that Rantu'ono, being the firstborn of the two twins, had always felt that he had to protect his gentler, kinder younger sister.

That's what scares me; I'm the older of Tala's two children, and I've been bold and bull-headed from my first day of training. The thrill of battle rouses a sense of security in me, as though if I continue to fight, I can and will survive anything that comes my way.

And Kiara's just like a perfect replica of Mother: gentle and firm, kind and brave. But when I look at my younger sister, all I can see is someone to protect.

Am I turning into what Rantu'ono was? is? It's in every way likely that history is repeating itself.

I shudder as I think about how power hungry, how bloodthirsty Rantu'ono was when he was sealed into the dimension known only as the Dark Realm. Could I truly become anything like that... that traitor? Just from what I know, it all seems grimly possible.

I can hear my mother whispering softly in my ear; she's singing her lullaby in hushed tones. The song had always soothed me before, and it soothes me now as I decide that Rantu'ono wasn't the type to like lullabies anyway. How could any traitor suddenly turn traitor? It suddenly seems impossible to me that I should follow my uncle's footsteps.

"Sleep now, little child.

May all your dreams be mild.

While you rest, I'll watch o'er you.

While you dream, I'll walk with you.

While you rest, I'll sing to you.

While you dream, I'll dance with you.

And when the morning light rouses you,

So will I still be with you.

So rest and do not worry.

Let darkness ease your fury.

Let sleep overcome your soul.

Let the rest remake you whole.

And when you wake again next day.

This lullaby again I'll say."

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