Repentance

The beads slipped between her thumb and index finger, smoothly hesitant. Cool, perfectly rounded, they looked exactly like grains of corn from a fresh cob - except that they were a bright, light blue.

Her eyes were closed and her lips kept moving, silently whispering chosen words, choice words that held power. She frequently cracked open an eyelid to peer at the string that marked her progress; sometimes it was involuntarily to see when her fingers couldn't quite slip the next bead over the bridge that her index finger created. It was mildly frustrating, and she wondered at the distracting quality of it, and perhaps her own focus was then brought into question.

One rotation over, she began the next, with cautious care and a slower pace. This time, her mind was being brought under control by the words she whispered, and it tried to cringe away. Instead, she reeled it back in, and made it shift into recall mode, pulling out memory of sin after sin. Her eyes were sometimes screwed tight now, and sometimes they would pop open and stare blankly, wide-eyed, at nothing; it was her mind's eye which saw and wished to recoil.

The beads continued to roll over her fingers, slowly, rhythmically. Sometimes her fingers faltered, losing the strength to push one after the other, for she had brought to trial a heavy sin and it weighed upon her mind. She was only halfway done, but was trembling all over and gasping slightly through her breaths.

A hundred counts done, and she unclenched her hand from around the tasbih, slipping it next to her pillow, and herself slumped back into bed. The weight was gone, and she quickly drifted into even breathing and relaxed muscles; she had fallen asleep.

Her fingers were unmoving, her tongue silent, but her heart continued to sing "Astagfirullah, Astagfirullah, Astagfirullah..."

Windstorms: Generic

The wind buffeted her with indescribable force but she cheerfully plodded on. This time, she had promised herself determination. She wouldn't crumble, or let herself become weak-kneed. There had to be some promises that would just hold, for once.

Sights and sounds assaulted her, tugging at corners of her mind, trying to pull it out of shape. But there would be no distortion this time. No, she was riding the wind with reins firmly in hand. She laughed delightedly at the lightness she felt, the feeling of being wispy and yet substantial. She sobered at the crashing thunder the next instant but picked up the scent of rain just lingering on the horizon.

Her legs didn't feel leaden, nor did her heart. There was birdsong in it, even though the sky was the murky-gray-twilight of artificial light intruding in darkness and clouds trying to blot out the almost-full moon.

From deep within, the swan let out a cry that was carried far and wide with the grace of swan wings. It could ruffle its feathers and still look pretty.
The wind kept swirling dust in heavy circles and tiny tornadoes that rose and fell instantly. Warm and heavy, yet soothing. Prickling the senses and clogging the breath-force, yet refreshing. It was then. It was there. Nothing could bring her down save His will.



It's good to be back.

Struggling for air

She lay on her back, her hands resting flat on her chest, fingers lightly pressing against the curves of her ribs. The flesh right under the skin of her right hand was gently pulsing, beating with a rhythm that was being borne from below. It was striking against her breathing, sometimes in time with an exhalation, and sometimes out of sync. Strange that the heartbeat could be felt so strongly towards the right of her ribcage, so far from where her heart was supposed to be. It was a heartbeat foretelling a heart straining to burst out, to beat independently and strike the air with even marching beats.

Come ruin..

-

I was sad. There was a thin mist swirling around me, not against my very person, for it left a space around me; I was not in direct contact with it, however I moved. Below me flowed a smooth stream, that went ahead and was smoothly changed into a low waterfall, with sparkling water and dark green vegetation that reminded me of spinach. I was facing the waterfall; though I call it one, it was but a miniature image of it, nevertheless, a waterfall it was and will be named.
I gazed sadly into the clear waters, hoping to see more than the shallow bottom. Was there hope anywhere? I could not see it. But I could suddenly feel it. I turned.

There he was - alive, whole, complete.

I looked up at him unsurprised,
"I thought you would never return".

He smiled a slow, sad smile, "Has it really been that bad?"

"Worse than you can imagine. Her kingdom is headed for ruin, the walls that once stood only by the strength of hope are now crumbling to pieces, each heart holds nothing but despair, and fear. The Wise, it seems, almost all of them, appear to have left the City. There are rumors abound, but no clear trace. The light is slowly leaving the towers, there is an absence of morals, and reason. Her throne will not be emptied, but the entire kingdom is threatening to become abandoned, yet the people will be there, yet it will become empty. A dead place it will become, with everything free, and yet caged. Too many have given up hope. Too many times have they been suppressed so as not to let the taint of fear spread to others, but it is becoming difficult to contain. And they are all afraid of an external interference, the greatest fear of all."

He cocked his head to one side; there was a question in his eyes, twinkling the way a bird's might when it is watching you, and he said,
"And yet...you are her?"

"Yes. And so are you."

--