It's been a long week here, it's cold again. I don't think winter is going to release us this year.... the cost of gas is still rising, it's 3.59 per gallon here. We've cut down on driving, shopping, going to movies. We live in a small rural community, so if we don't go outside of town, we basically trapped, lol. Glad we have cable TV.
Also, I want to let all those on the pacific coast line from Japan to Oregon, my thoughts are with you. Stay safe and take care.
Now, for today's post. It's Friday, so it's time for the response to Monday's beautiful prompt:
by: Dottie Taylor
word count: 840
So many souls, all begging for release, Fiona wandered through the cemetery, brushing her fingertips along the tops of the gravestones, lingering on the ones where the spirit still wrestled. No one said being a bean sidhe was going to be easy. But the voices pounding in her head... they wouldn't stop. She was afraid it was slowly driving her insane.
She taken to wearing sunglass even in the limited light of the evenings, her eyes burned at the merest glimmer of the stuff, sending her head into a pounding beat, exciting the voices, bursting with need.
How was she supposed to stop this senseless grinding? How was she even supposed to understand, the voices seemed to blend into one throbbing need, but how to relieve it?
Ahead was a large mausoleum, and she sank into the soft mossy feel of the carpeting grass, resting her head against the cool concrete. Please, please, please... make it stop.
“Aye, there, young one,” someone called over her shoulder. Fiona stiffed, she hadn't seen anyone else since she'd entered the cemetery.
“Come here, I won't bite cha,” and slowly Fiona twisted her head around, looking down. There sitting in the grass, two gravestones away, rested a small body. As if she had no control, Fiona stood and made her way to the small voice.
“There ya be, and have a seat.” Commanded the small person, whether real or imaginary, Fiona was unsure, but she lower herself to rest against the gravestone.
“Are you real? Or a figment of my imagination?” Fiona questioned, had she finally lost her mind?
“Aye, I'm quite real, and for a price, ye may have my help.” A wicked grin covered the small person's features, smiling with a grotesquely wide brimming grin, one reaching from one ear to the ear.
“And what is it that you'll be helping me with?” Fiona closed her eyes, trying to seal away the voices that had grown louder since sitting beside this small person offering help.
“Why dontcha know girlie, the voices, I can show ya how tau let em go!” A cackle crawled along Fiona's flesh, raising the small hairs, and bringing gooseflesh in their place, and she knew, faery glamour filled her vision.
“And what is the 'cost' of this great bit of advice going to be?” Fiona shivered, closing her eyes once again as her head rested against the stone, when there was a shifting in the air, and suddenly the figure grew, and Fiona's eyes widened. In it's place stood a beautiful woman, holding out her hand.
“Tis such a little thing,” the woman took on a musical quality and it sang across Fiona's skin, but the smile.... it felt like a wolf's grin. Fiona could almost see the fangs in her smile, “such a small request...”
“And it would be....?” Fiona flinched, trying to scoot away, but the woman held her in place with her emerald green stare. Fiona was positive she didn't want this woman's help, felt it in her soul.
“Why just your first born, my sweet.” The woman leaned down and touched Fiona's middle, where someday, life would move within her.
Fiona cringed away, as a scream broke from her lips. The woman's touch was a like a fire to blaze through her abdomen.
“Get away from me!” Fiona shouted shakily as she finally managed to breakaway. “You'll never own a piece of my soul!”
“Aye, but you're wrong,” and the woman grinned, her glamour growing stronger, pushing Fiona.
And abruptly the woman, the voices, the mind bending pressure became too much to bear. On instinct, Fiona flung back her head, opening her arms, and yawning her jaws wide. A screaming cry burst from her throat, ripping her vocal cords, her throat bloodying, and the gathering souls slipped in and out. The relief was immense.
“What have you done!” The woman cried, cringing away from the souls as they reached out to grasp her, wrenching her limbs, dragging her body away.
“Fulfilling my duty,” Fiona smiled, Gods, it felt like the sun was shining in the darkest part of the night.
Fiona lifted the sunglasses from her eyes, flinging them to the ground, and opened her arms wide in an embrace with the sky. Laughter bubbled up and out, and when she glanced down, the woman was gone, but the souls still remained. Together, the bean sidhe and souls danced through the night.
In the morning, Fiona awoke to find herself surrounded by the quiet gravestones, the souls finally finding their homes. It was her duty to release the souls, and now she understood. Her screams were the songs that the souls needed to be guide them to the next plane.
Fiona stood, making her way home, but on the eve of the ides, on her birthday, she would return to release the souls clinging to life. It was her duty, passed from mother to daughter. Bean Sidhe.
I know, waaaay over the word count! At least, for me, it was easier to write for... though again, I'm not sure I like it. I'm so fickle. Next week, it'll be one of Michelle's images!
If you've decided to play along, I'll be by to take a peek at your response.
Have a great weekend!