MEMENTO MORI.MEMENTO MORI.MEMENTO MORI. by DieForelle
You will die one day. You do not know that day, and you never will.
You’re here, standing over your grandmother’s bed. The sterile scent of alcohol fills the room. The body lies there, unmoving, yet you cannot look away. The family is here with you, some crying, others just staring. You all see her move, at times, and you say goodbye and hello to her. The tears flow, at times, and sometimes you feel emptiness and lethargy.
You hear that she just died today. You’re in your room, browsing the internet on your computer. The aircon is off, and it feels like an oven. The words echo in your mind, and you feel nothing. The tears don’t flow, and there seems only empty space. Then the thought hits you like a sledgehammer, and you’re left on the floor, emptying your heart and mind.
MagusMagusMagus by DieForelle
A young man stands on the gilded stage, his eyes glowing with a maddened fire. He looks out at the silent crowd and weaves his spell and sings. The music drowns the sleeping crowd with charm, awakens them to the world, brings them back to life like the morning mountain air. He sings, and the world is revealed, for his song becomes the world, becomes the song of Creation itself. And the moment of music ends, and the world falls away once more for the crowd as they shuffle out and away, back into the void.
The frozen worldThe Artisan sang myriad songs, and finally, their song took form. A single note echoed through the heart of all Creation, and the note took the form of a sleeping maiden at the center. She slept and froze the world, and she sang her heartsong as she slumbered. And so the world remained for eons, trapped in ice and crystal.The frozen world by DieForelle
Her brother, her twin, the Trickster, melted the sleeping world, awakened it, weakening his sister. Still, she, always the Dreamer, slumbered, even knowing that one day she would wake, and all the world would melt and fall apart.
She sleeps to this day, not tossing, not turning, merely dreaming of the shattered world to come. The seers say she cannot allow herself to wake, lest the world end. Instead, she dreams, and there, in dream, she manipulates the waking world.
L'AURA/ARIAL’AURA/ARIAL'AURA/ARIA by DieForelle
The golden early morning light shines through the open window. The air is somewhat smoky outside, bearing the scent of gasoline. Here, inside, I stand and wait. My voice teacher starts to play the piano. The song is light, like a feather floating in the wind. The dreamlike melody echoes in my mind. I begin to sing. My throat burns. The sugar-sweet notes set my breath ablaze. The tones light as a mountain air choke me. The pain like a volley of arrows is nigh unbearable, and I must stop.
“Let’s try again,” I say, for I cannot help but continue.