a vast lonliness awaits her. outside this room. this bubble. this memory. this illusion. a set of psychologically constructed meaning.
a vast lonliness in which she would try to fill the emptiness with various tasks. music being one of them. fill them with everything but substance. she was never an abuser of any substance and had no plans of becoming one.
he wouldn't be visiting her tonight.
she would search the silence endlessly throughout. the silence that pertains despite the sound of a hundred musical instruments playing all at once. the silence that refuses to be drowned out in the melody of what was once magic. the silence that found her when she desperately tried to avoid it. the silence within. the silence that was... an absence of him.
she was a closed bottle tonight. she wasn't going to flow. one of thos rare nights when she dreaded his presence-it threatened to shatter the bubble around her. she needed time. to rebuild. to mend. to heal. she had given too much of herself last time.
tonight was the night of reason. of logic. of level headedness. a night when he would peer in through the windows but would not be allowed to enter. a night of no miracles. no epiphanies. no bursts of creativity. no romanticism. she would not flow. a night of no creation.
now and than she would look up, expecting to find him in the shadows. waiting to make his presence known. wait for the right moment. observing. seeing her in her true nakedness. knowing what she did not.
but he wasn't there. almost.
suddenly she felt a need to attach meaning. to the bright colors that seemed to surround her suddenly. hues of red, yellow and orange that appeared out of nowhere in the grey, blue and black that was once there. surrounding her in the shape of flowing cloth. she needed to attach meaning to them. they were happy colors and she felt nothing.
"why are you doing this to me jareth?", she asked him, but recieved no response in return.
she walked through the colors. the red, orange and yellow. she walked through them and touched the instrument that connected her to him. & it was all gone in an instant. the red, the organge and the yellow. she felt a slight pang of regret. such happy colors. tonight was the night of no creation.
she had flowed... too much,
& had gotten nothing in return.
'where are you jareth?', she asked him, her thoughts echoing off the walls.
the night of no creation.
she could strum all she wanted, create all the melodies in the world, but all the songs she played, all the-music, would be empty.
she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep at night. her body would not rock with emotion. she would not lie awake for restlessness. there was nothing to sleep for. no dreams. a night so still her heart could stop beating and she would still be alive and conscious.
a night when she would become the silence she feared.
a night of no creation.
No comments:
Post a Comment