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[lythaniawrites]

[lythaniawrites]

Deadman’s Cliff was in shambles after the earthquakes. Stones ajar, crumbling, and tipped over. The once pristine place of resting looked abandoned and vandalized. And the residents were uneasy at best. Wails and screaming carried on the whispers of the wind, calling for help. Pleading for rest once again amongst the earth.

The one they called death’s friend heard their cries. The wind wrapped around her like a blanket, smothering her with their cries. As she approached, the lamentation of the deceased grew louder. No longer a whisper but shouts in her ears. Lythania tried to get them to listen, but the shouts to grew to screams and wailing. The dead wanted answers for these crimes, for them being awoken. And death’s friend could bear no more.

Curling up in a tight ball, the necromancer whimpered from the ruckus. The thoughts, requests, demands of the dead echoed in her head, her ears, leaving nothing for her. Silent tears wet the ground under her as she clung to hope of silence once more. Whimpering out a plea, she closes her eyes.

“Please…stop….”

[lythaniawrites]

One glance in the mirror was enough to stop the necromancer dead on her tracks. The little girl…the little girl whose parents tried their best for her, but we’re just too trusting. The little girl whose face was plastered everywhere on notices. The notices her parents begged to be spread in Thorne’s End. But no one helped, not for a poor family living in the darker side of the light…

The little girl who was born with bright red hair. The cheerful oldest, always ready to save the day. The caretaker, the kisser of boo boos, the flier of kites. The day her wings showed was an amazing day. She danced and practiced moving them to music, entertaining her younger siblings. The bright red and black feathers were unique, but so was she. She was a fighter, a fixer, and all around good little kid.

Putting her hand to the mirror, the little girl matches the movements. Her bright eyes reflect the stars and the moon, filled with so much hope….so much life for the future. The little girl looks puzzled at the sad woman in the mirror. Who is she? Where did her wings go? The little girl turns, saying something to someone out of the picture, before turning back one last time. With a big smile on her face, the little girl with the pretty feather wings waves goodbye and heads off to the door…to the carriage that seals her fate.

Lythania screams at the mirror, telling her to turn around, not get it, to not listen to his lies. But alas, this is just the second half of the memory…the other side of the mirror. She’s seen this before. Her memory clear…of the woman yelling in the mirror…wondering what was wrong.

[lythaniawrites]

What do you do when the words are all wrong? When your brain is so tired and the days seem so long.

What do you do when the panic is too real? When the voices in your head are screaming but you just can’t seem to feel.

What do you do when it feels like the world hates you? When you feel like everything is your fault and there is nothing you can do.

What do you do when you think you are all alone? When that little voice tells you it’s better to hide that to be shown.

What do you do when the silence is too loud? When you are lost in your own head, telling you that you don’t belong in the crowd.

[lythaniawrites]

[lythaniawrites]

[lythaniawrites]