1.
And so she sat idly on the cushion near her window. But it was so disgustingly normal outside. At times, Amiline wondered how anybody could take it, day in, day out. Sighing, she grabbed the book near her bed and began reading, only pausing once in a while to peer out her window and hope for an adventure.
So the story begins two hours later, when Amiline is startled out of her book by a shout from the stairs – “A-MA-LIIINE!” She quickly rose, and then, just as quickly fell back down (her foot had fallen asleep). Amiline put away her book and clattered down the stairs to greet Michael.
He was waiting for her in the great room and chatting with Amiline’s older sister, Felince, about the trip from which he had just returned. Amiline, listening to his story, grabbed an apple from the bowl at the center of the dining table and crunched into it. Looking at Michael, she noticed that he had grown a little over the summer, but his face still remained that of a little boy – all ruddy cheeks and long eyelashes. All of a sudden, Amiline was overcome with pity for Michael, not knowing why, she shook her head and took a bite anew from the apple.
Largon’s right eye had gone grey, but Amiline never felt a moment’s fear, save that night when she saw him walking home alone, and the patch of shaded black caught her eye, and filled her with an empty fear of what he had suffered so that he no longer appeared human.
It was the oddest thing, watching her older sister gave birth. When the child first emerged, Amiline – even though she knew better – was shocked at how dark the child seemed, when it had yet to open its eyes, except for the already-thick line between mother and child. And still, as she watched, Amiline noticed a small, impossibly bright thread twine its way between the babe and the mid-wife, and then, with delight, felt the tiniest twinge as one more grew between her and the baby. It only occurred to Amiline after she witnessed the child’s first aurings that she herself had a brand-new niece.
Third order was the phrase she had heard whispered about Michael in the great room – Amiline, much as any other right-minded human, knew what it meant to be 1 and 2 ordered, and even knew about the 4th order that was heaven to the monks, but it seemed that “third order” she had only when it was mentioned in whispers, some in awe, others in fear.
Michael saw suddenly, an image of Amiline, standing, many years taller at her balcony. Her hands were outstretched, and he noticed, with sudden horror, the thin red lines that grew redder and thicker until wet petals of blood fell onto the balustrade.
So the story begins two hours later, when Amiline is startled out of her book by a shout from the stairs – “A-MA-LIIINE!” She quickly rose, and then, just as quickly fell back down (her foot had fallen asleep). Amiline put away her book and clattered down the stairs to greet Michael.
He was waiting for her in the great room and chatting with Amiline’s older sister, Felince, about the trip from which he had just returned. Amiline, listening to his story, grabbed an apple from the bowl at the center of the dining table and crunched into it. Looking at Michael, she noticed that he had grown a little over the summer, but his face still remained that of a little boy – all ruddy cheeks and long eyelashes. All of a sudden, Amiline was overcome with pity for Michael, not knowing why, she shook her head and took a bite anew from the apple.
Largon’s right eye had gone grey, but Amiline never felt a moment’s fear, save that night when she saw him walking home alone, and the patch of shaded black caught her eye, and filled her with an empty fear of what he had suffered so that he no longer appeared human.
It was the oddest thing, watching her older sister gave birth. When the child first emerged, Amiline – even though she knew better – was shocked at how dark the child seemed, when it had yet to open its eyes, except for the already-thick line between mother and child. And still, as she watched, Amiline noticed a small, impossibly bright thread twine its way between the babe and the mid-wife, and then, with delight, felt the tiniest twinge as one more grew between her and the baby. It only occurred to Amiline after she witnessed the child’s first aurings that she herself had a brand-new niece.
Third order was the phrase she had heard whispered about Michael in the great room – Amiline, much as any other right-minded human, knew what it meant to be 1 and 2 ordered, and even knew about the 4th order that was heaven to the monks, but it seemed that “third order” she had only when it was mentioned in whispers, some in awe, others in fear.
Michael saw suddenly, an image of Amiline, standing, many years taller at her balcony. Her hands were outstretched, and he noticed, with sudden horror, the thin red lines that grew redder and thicker until wet petals of blood fell onto the balustrade.
posted by nississima @ 1:29 PM
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